


Sinners and Saints

by sharkgriffin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff Content, Gen, Hell Flashbacks, Season/Series 09, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkgriffin/pseuds/sharkgriffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after Crowley killed her, Meg awakens in a tomb in a changed world. Angels are falling from the sky, demons are rising from the dead and it's only a matter of time before she is on the run again. Seeking a friend in all the chaos, she goes searching for the one angel who has ever done good to her. To discover he's not even an angel anymore.</p><p>Written for the Megstiel Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank khamuel on tumblr for making the incredibly beautiful art for my fic and putting up with my countless final drafts. Also, thank you to deanbelievesincastiel for betaing and thank you to all the wonderful people behind megstielbigbang

She remembered rising from the darkness. She remembered coughing, coughing strongly in the way someone may cough to try to remove water from their throats after coming close to drowning. Except it wasn't water pouring from her mouth. It was blood, thick and warm against her skin. Her eyes fluttered open. She was lying on a stone slab, cold as ice..

That was what it felt like to her as her new sensations kicked in. Her lungs felt dry, unused. And her muscles were so tight and, what was a good word for them? Rusty. And then they hit her: words, memories, all flooding back to her brain at once, Names and images. Her name. Or rather her names. There were so many names that maybe had once been hers, that she had used. Rose, Christina, Virginia, Scarlett, Sam. Somehow, none of them fitted. And then one that did: Meg.

She used her arms to push herself up. There were more slabs, everywhere, covered with sheets and shapes beneath them, what looked like bodies. But she left them. She limped across the floor and tried to at least work some action into her stiff legs. She was unclothed, save for a bandage binding her wrist. What was this, some kind of morgue? And she suspended herself above a sink over which hung a mirror.

Blonde hair in a mess, combed over her forehead. Brown eyes and small lips and blood, more blood, coating various areas of her pale skin in thick, dark clumps. Veins showed faintly through and they were an eerie blue, like you might find on a corpse. Some of the blood had dried, like it had been given time. And then the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Her name was Meg Masters. She was a demon. And she was supposed to be dead.

_____

She pulled the single hair from the folds of her bandage. Holding it up to the light, it was still just as dark as she had seen before. She would just have to hope that this belonged to him.

Back in the morgue, she had cleaned the blood from her face, well, as much of it as she could without aid from sponges or cloths. As far as she could tell, apart from the blood coming from her mouth, she was uninjured. The rest of the blood was probably not hers or maybe she was just healed by now. But not a bruise on her. The same clothes she had worn on that last day had been laid out by whoever had done this and they were just as red as her face had been. Her necklace that she had grown rather fond of after making it herself and having worn for years had been there too. That was good. The charms hanging from the string had minor protection abilities.

 She wanted to know who the other bodies had belonged to, whatever was going on here. It seemed pretty serious. She was sure that no one in history knew what happened to a demon after death, either from that knife of Sam and Dean's or an angel blade. Crowley had stabbed her, full on, straight through her meatsuit's heart. She had felt it pierce skin, then bone, and the fiery sting. She had fallen, and then darkness. But not a wound to her stomach, not even a scratch, she had checked every inch of the body. Well, no scratches unless you counted the marks on her neck and her chest. They were bright red and additional to the binding symbols from her time with Crowley. These were odd and must have been in some ancient language but not one she had ever heard of. She had read back thousands of years in how to summon all kinds of dark creatures and perform every enchantment out there but there had been nothing like this.

So after she had prepared herself, she had found her way out of there. It was a warehouse, abandoned like there were not enough of those already. Judging by the signs lining the streets, she was somewhere in Oklahoma. She found herself to the nearest place to stay which happened to be a cheap motel. She felt like a hunter. This was the type of place they liked to stay in, wasn't it, due to their no pay career. And for once, no one had noticed the messy haired girl wearing far too few clothes in the rain, as she stumbled into their reception. No, their eyes were fixed on a television screen overhead, reporting on a recent weather fluke, a worldwide meteor shower.

There was only one person she could trust now, provided they had survived the time she had been away. Meg had picked up magic during her time with Azazel and later, Lucifer. A simple tracking spell should be easy, even if it had to be performed in a place like this. She would just have to hope she would not set anything on fire.

So she lowered  Castiel's hair into the bowl and crushed it among the herbs. Again, they were not perfect. And once again, they would have to do. The bandage around her wrist had been the same one he had given her after cleaning her wounds and so the hair had still been there. She placed it on the map in front of her, ripped from an atlas. So long as he had not left to country, she would be fine. Hopefully the boy whose room, she had stolen it from, would not mind her burning one of the more interesting pages. She lit a match and chanted in Latin. It was a language she was practically fluent in, while not having been a full blooded witch as a human, she was sure she had learned some of their tongue and tricks. This one, she was familiar with. It was seared into her brain. She had used it a lot, at first, to track the Winchesters and all of her father's special children and then Crowley's men as she suspected he had done an equal number of times with her.

She opened her eyes and looked down. Just a small scrap of the paper was left by now with crisp brown edges. Detroit, Michigan.  It was time to pay a certain angel a visit.

_____

Castiel  ran, sprinted down the alleyway towards the small apartment he now liked to call home. The heavy pounding footsteps of his pursuer came from behind him, but there was no time to look around. As he opened the door, he slid the iron chain and then bolt back over it before going over the Enochian siege, he had drawn a couple of days ago, with a blue sharpie. He sprinkled salt in a messy circle around the spot where he stood. No gaps could be left. He loaded his shotgun and stood there, tired and out of breath. There was a flutter of movement behind him and he spun around, aiming the barrel of the gun at his attacker's head.

"Nice to see you too Clarence." He lowered his gun to reveal a small girl, probably in her late twenties or early thirties, with a tangle of blonde hair streaked with brown and clad in a leather jacket and jeans.

"Meg?"

"I expect I'm the last person you thought you'd see here." She took a single step forward until her toes were right at the edge of the salt line. "You mind letting me in?"

He kicked a tiny gap, just wide enough for her to step through, and once she had crossed into the broken circle, he closed it once again.

"Slumming it down, are you? Never thought an angel would be staying in a place like this." She sat down at the table and opened a cardboard box to reveal a few slices of cold pizza inside. "What's this? I thought you didn't have to eat."

He looked at her with a slightly annoyed expression and took a bite, savoring the taste. "I'm not an angel anymore, Meg." He expected some surprise from her but she just slowly nodded and took an equally sized slice.

"So that angel skydiving thing. Got something to do with you?" She waited for an answer.

"Metatron."

" _The_ Metatron? Writer of those sacred tablets that you're all crazy about translating."

"He took my grace. He needed it for a spell to lock all the angels out of Heaven."

"And I'm guessing your hunter buddies are working on fixing this. Well from what I see here, those feathered dicks must be pretty pissed with you."

"I can't find Sam and Dean. It's too dangerous. All of Heaven is after me."

"Alright, coward. That's not the Cas I know." This angel has slaughtered millions but a few years ago. He could smite a thousand demons for his own cause. He had thrown her into a ring of fire once. And now he was hiding out, eating pizza. "So what happened to the trenchcoat? Thought you couldn't live without that thing."

His face turned upwards from the table so that his blue eyes stared straight into hers. "Meg, if you're here to ask me why I didn't rescue you after what happened in the crypts, then I'm sorry but I really didn't have time with trying to protect the angel tablet."

"OK, OK. "

"Sam and Dean didn't tell me what had happened to you," he continued.

She sat up completely straight. No wonder she had not got the shocked welcome and questioning. He did not even know she had been dead. "I bet they didn't." Of course the Winchesters hadn't told him. Were they worried it would break their precious little weapon? Or maybe she was just another of their 'friends', cast aside and forgotten once they died which happened to everyone in a five mile radius around them, practically. It was a shame too. She had wanted to ask his help to find out what in Hell or Heaven could possibly have brought her back but she could not have him going all mad and murderous on his best friends now so she just smiled at him.

"So fill me in on the last three months. Haven't exactly been keeping up with worldwide news. Y'know, what with being on the run." And she lied to him, straight to his face. Well it was not really lying. When your body's lying on a tarmac floor in a parking lot with your guts spilling out, it's pretty difficult to read the news and even though Crowley's men _thought_ she was no longer a threat, eventually, they would get wind of what had happened.

"I don't really think I should be sharing this with you."

"Seriously? You're with this whole racist 'demons are less than people' thing too? Come on, after all these years, you don't trust me." She tried smiling at him once again and he sighed. He was tired with her or maybe just tired in general. The poor guy was hiding. She knew how it felt to be in his position.

"Sam is sick. He might be dying. I don't know much about it. As I said, I can't go near Sam and Dean without being followed."

"And all this isn't enough to stop the angels coming?" She gestured around all the walls which were scrawled with enochian sigils. She could not read them, enochian was meant for angels only.

" I've been here a week but I'm going to have to move on soon." He cocked his head at her. "Are you alright? You seem different."

She laughed. "Probably now your angel mojo isn't working anymore, instead of a monstrous beast, you just see the innocent, hot chick from Cheboygan." She stared straight into his eyes. The last time she had done this was in the hotel room, right before Crowley had killed her. He saw her differently now and she could see him differently too. Demons' sight was limited but occasionally she could just make out that sparkle underneath his skin, the ripple in the air of his wings tucked away behind his back. He seemed older too. Angel's vessels weren't supposed to age, just like with demons but now his hair seemed just a bit grayer and as he smiled, crinkles appeared around his eyes. He was just so...normal. But if he saw her in a different way, it was not just an effect of his new lifestyle. Something seriously bad, seriously dark had been done to her. She needed to figure this out. Who could have brought her back and why?

_____

Castiel let her use his shower. It was a small room at the back of this little home of his and even her at under average height for a woman, could barely stand up inside without crouching. It was a wonder how Cas could do it if he ever did get the chance to wash. She pulled off her clothes and scrunched them up in a ball in the corner to hopefully prevent them from getting wet. And then she went in. The water was freezing but of course he could not afford heating. It was lucky it was Summer though not the warmest of weather what with all the rain she had seen. It trickled down her naked skin and into one of the carvings on her arm and she flinched. The markings were shallow but not healed, her body would not exactly have time to what with being uninhabited. If she drew her finger along them, her nail would slip into the little ridge in her skin.

Sometimes she would wonder about the girl she was possessing. She barely remembered her name. She had been a comatose patient, hit by a van as she was going to another audition for some daytime cable TV soap up in L.A. She had been in that bed for two months when Meg took her, just breathing along with the beeping of the life support machine. She had been alive but barely although if Meg had reached out, she could feel her consciousness enough to know the girl's story. It comforted her in a way. The girl had probably been well and truly gone by the time she was thrown into a ring of fire. That would kill most humans, wouldn't it? Well whatever the case, she still could not feel her now. She had not stolen her life, she could not have although it must have been a mystery, the coma patient who walked straight out of hospital. She had not stuck around long enough to find out. Her first vessel when she met the Winchesters, she had been a different case. Meg Masters, the girl whose identity she had taken on, though she had hardly done a good job, changing her appearance completely and then running off to her father. After that, after she had crawled out of Hell, two more bodies, first Sam Winchester and then moving on to a waitress named Lauren. That had been in preparation, before Lucifer rose. She had been so excited at the time and so faithful, she had true belief in his cause. It was such a shame.

She scrubbed at her hair then for though the water was dirty, the blonde had to go. She missed the original hair of her vessel, that light brown. It had suited her, more than Crowley's choices anyway. The die slowly trickled down her neck, the color of a pale blonde until there was no more in the sink and her hair stuck in layers onto her neck. The shower curtain was filthy and she swear she saw a spider;s web. It  barely covered half of the doorway so that the light yellow water spattered onto the tiled floor. And then she emerged and wrapped the towel around herself. It was small too, everything here was small, maybe a young child could live here on their own. Or a dwarf. It came just down to below her hips, she pulled it as low as she could to cover all of the scars. She checked her reflection in his mirror, just as grubby as the rest of this place with a neat crack right down the edge. By now, her hair was brown again with just a few streaks of blonde. She sighed, brushing it down. It would go eventually. Scattered across the small shelf which hung over the sink was toothpaste, mouth wash, a face flannel. Of course, what else was she expecting from a human?

She left then, back into the main room. And Cas was scribbling on a sheet of paper. It was more Enochian sigils which again, she understood none of. For all she knew, they could be the angel version of the word 'cheese'.

_____

At some point Castiel went out. She did not even hear him leave. One second he was there and the next, gone. But she did not bother to question it. He was a big boy, he could look after himself. The pair of them were awkward. It was like she was some high school friend he hadn't seen for years who was now crashing on his couch. If there had ever been anything between them, it could not continue now. To be poetic, there was a hole in his soul from where his grace used to be. And finding it again was his number one mission. He had a price on his head. He did not have time for any relationship, romantic or not. So for now, she would just have to be his friend crashing on his couch.

And eventually he returned with a single shopping bag. A loaf of bread and a few boxes of microwavable pizza, a couple of snack bars and two jars, one of peanut butter and one of jelly. He handed her a pile of women's magazines and her mind brought up images of him buying them. He would have got some funny looks which, knowing him, he would not have understood.

"I saw you reading them and I thought maybe you might want them now." He was waiting for a yes or no. And she gave neither.

"So what's with the snack food binge, cloud hop_" She froze. Instinctively, she had been about to call him by one of her angelic nicknames. He did not bat an eyelid though.

"I have never had a need for food before. I do not know how to cook. These have instructions on the back and they uh, I can eat them quickly on the road. He dropped down beside her. And he smelt of humanity too, and just as badly of the road and motel rooms as Sam and Dean. He was officially one of them. Also, she picked up minty toothpaste, far too much of it, she might add. The way he sat, it was fascinating, his back was completely straight and tensed like a predator, ready for attack the entire time. He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on it, now covered with more stubble than before.

"So I'm guessing you got some booze with all this crap?" she asked.

"I don't need any." He looked confused.

She sighed. "Clarence, you have a lady in your house. The polite thing to do would be to offer her  drink.

"I have some water and a carton of milk in the refrigerator."

"Wow." She reached for one of the magazines.

"Would you like some peanut butter?" Eagerly, he offered her the jar with a teaspoon sticking out of the lid.

"Really?"

"Dean told me that you liked it." This was true. Some human foods, they were just so good. No matter the fact that she was usually too busy to eat, peanut butter, it was glorious, smooth or crunchy. And Cas held the spoon just in front of his mouth. His tongue flicked outwards and he took a deep breath.

"I used to taste every single atom every time I did eat. None of the flavours were there. They were uh still there but there was so much else that I barely tasted them." He nodded as he took another mouthful. "This is pretty good."

She laughed and put a soft hand on his shoulder. "You don't eat it all at once. You have bread, right? Have it in a sandwich." She began to show him. With no knife at hand, she used the spoon to wipe it in small clumps over a single piece of bread. And then she took the jelly, strawberry jelly, and did the same on another slice.

"OK, so a lot of humans like this. Personally, I find it not so good. I ain't keen on that whole sweet savoury thing."

But he bit in and made a sort of 'mmmm' sound.

"You like it?"

"The strawberry and the peanuts, I can taste both. I uh, understand why so many humans like it."

"Well there's a bunch of other stuff you have to try. Milkshakes, burgers, popcorn, ice cream, pasta. Not all at once of course."

"Meg, how long are you staying here?" He was back to the main topic of importance.

"Oh." That was something she had not thought about, not for a minute. He thought she was on the run from Crowley's men and he was on the run from the God squad. "Well I was thinking that maybe you might need help."

"We'll be easier to track if there are two of us."

"It sounds like you don't want me here, Clarence."

"No. I-I like your company. I like to hear the sound of your voice."

"That's new. You win. I've heard a few compliments in my time. I like your hair, I like your legs, I like your...well you get the idea. But no one's ever gone for the voice. Extra points for originality. I could help you. You've never been human, right. I've had to pretend a few times, not mentioning the fact that I'm a demon, remember. A few centuries ago, this thing was just another human girl."

"You remember?"

"I remember bits and pieces. If you want to know about my actual life then I can't. That was taken at some point in the pit. But I could still be useful. I'm not trying to be clingy or anything. I just think we'd make a good team. Look, Sam and Dean have been big time hunters since when? Eight years ago when daddy goes missing. They meet me shortly after that. And they let me go. And in that time they kill, Lilith, Azazel, Alastair, all the major players and even manage to lock the Devil away in a dark corner of Hell. Me, I'm a survivor. I've survived longer than you even. From what I've heard, you've been to angel Purgatory a few times."

"I don't think angels have Purgatory."

"Just go with it."

"Alright. Well it's late now. I have to sleep."

Meg shifted so that her legs stretched out and she rested her head on her arm. "Ever think how much time humans waste with their sleeping and eating and all?"

He gave her what she could understand as an eye roll. "It is an essential of human life, Meg. They-we would die without it."

"Alright grumpy."

"And it's a complicated procedure," he continued. There are so many positions that I can lie in and it is very hard to get the brain to shut down. I could draw you some diagrams and_"

"I'm good. Just try counting sheep.""

He just stared at her, blankly. "What sheep?"

"At the moment, I'm really wishing you would just sleep." She hoped Cas would trust her to be alone in his apartment of course. If Sam and Dean had been with him, they'd most likely be taking shifts on watching her. But why was she even thinking about them? They were not here because they did not need to watch over their little mascot all hours. She did not need to think about them. After all, they had not given her a second thought, had they?

"First I must brush my teeth." He went through into the bathroom and she followed. And sure enough, she watched him carefully as he bent forwards so that his head would not crash into the ceiling. He hunched his body into a smaller shape. In a calm fashion, he drew out a tube of mint toothpaste. She saw his fingers clench as he squeezed it and it went straight onto his tongue and down his throat.

"What are you doing? You trying to make yourself sick? Here. Where's the brush?" She pushed herself into the tiny room beside him and let her arms go as far out as they could as she tried to search for a toothbrush for him.

"Brush?"

"Please tell me you bought a brush?"

He shook his head.

"Look just...leave it for tonight. We'll sort this all out tomorrow."

And he gave her a nod. He made to take a step forwards and then collapsed back onto the sink, clutching his forehead with the palm of his hand. His teeth clenched and she backed away slightly. Finally, his whole body relaxed and his eyes snapped open.

"Uh Clarence, are you feeling OK? Maybe you should sit down for a while."

His face had gone white and he was running past her to the table. "They're coming."

"Back up. Who's coming?"

"The angels." He began to pack things into a bag, including the peanut butter.

"Wait, how do you know? Thought now you were human, angel radio is busted."

"No. Angel radio works. It works well. They've found me."

"Really? Through all this warding?"

"It can hold them off for a while but it's not strong enough. They're coming for us. We have to leave."

Instantly, Meg noticed how he was beginning to say 'we' instead of 'I' and accepting she was staying with him for now. She scooped the peanut butter jar into his bag and all the things she found that might be useful, a box of salt which she carried carefully and she pointed out an iron rod he had used to bolt the door so he could stuff it in the rucksack as she could not. She took a few blunt butter knives from the drawer, seeing as they were the best she could get and finally, he added a few pens. A crackle of thunder came from outside, followed by heavy pattering of raindrops on their roof.

"It's them." His head turned to face her and his eyes were wild. "We've got to get out of here."


	2. Falling

Sammy was dying. His brother was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. He would be on his own and this time there would be no way of getting out of it. No selling his soul, no helpful angels to drag him out of Heaven to his own body. It was the end. At least it had been. Until Ezekiel showed up. And he said he could cure Sam. Dean knew he should not trust angels, especially ones who just turned up out of the blue like this but he knew Cas and at least he had his approval. So he had let Ezekiel take over Sam's body, and just plain lied to him as he was secretly healed from within. But now finally he was beginning to listen to what that voice deep inside of him said.

Charlie and Dorothy had just left for Oz and as he had watched the ginger haired girl's smiling face as she vanished down that Yellow Brick Road, he had remembered how it had felt to hold her cold, limp body in his hands and knowing he had lost yet another of his only friends. Zeke had not even been willing to bring her back and he was sure that the angel was not going to offer many more favors.

There had been no sign of Cas in ages and Kevin was locked up in a motel somewhere, working hard on translating that tablet of theirs. And no angels after them, that was a good sign at least and it had been a good month since Abaddon last troubled them. It gave them space so that Sam could keep on healing for as long as possible though there was no telling when there would be their next attack. He would just have to carry on guessing. Those trials messed Sam up pretty bad.

"What's the word, Sammy?" Dean strode over to sit down beside Sam with a beer in one hand. "Any news on the fallen angel problem?"

"So far, nothing.

"No omens, no signs of demons? Come on, give me something."

"Yeah well that's just it Dean. There's nothing, I got nothing. Maybe they realized what was good for them and decided to stay out of our way."

"Ah look at my brother with his big, brave talk. How's Crowley?"

"Not given many names so far. He freaked Kevin out quite a lot back there so it's best the two of them stay away from each other. Dean, I don't know about this. Maybe we should be out there, hunting monsters. There are a few possibilities for cases." He glanced at the bottle in his hand. "But instead, we're lazing around in here, drinking beer."

"What can I say, Sammy. You need to stay away from all that stuff for now. You're still recovering from_"

"The demon trials, yeah, I know Dean, you've told me that enough times. But I'm fine."

"Well could you just..." Dean struggled to think of an excuse. "Leave it for a while. You know, wait until we're sure that this crap ain't gonna come back to you."

Sam raised his eyebrows and then shrugged. "Sure Dean. Whatever you say." He turned and began to leave, most likely to the library and Dean watched him go. He could not keep up this act for ever. Eventually Sam would notice the mysterious resurrections and when he did, the game was up.

_____

In the dead of night, in the heart of Oregon, Illinois, a rusty old Ford pulled up at the side of the road. And two figures climbed out. Those still out such as college students back from a drink that had turned into five at the local bar or those who had been working in the office all evening, could have seen them up to no good or noticed the large baggage they carried or even just done their job and passed them by without a second thought. To study them carefully, they would have noticed that the one behind was tall, around six feet, with a hood pulled up over his head, under which two startlingly blue eyes were visible. The second had taken the lead. They were shorter, a woman, all leather and brown hair hair spilling out. And if you had looked really closely, you would have seen a glint of silver at her wrist: a knife. Were they a couple? Maybe, maybe they had been in the past or maybe they would be in the future. Maybe both but at the moment, there was an aura of coldness between them. The girl was whispering to him in an annoyed tone, the words incomprehensible from a distance She was quite young, though to take a closer look, her eyes seemed almost aged. But no one who saw them followed them. Few of the people who saw them even gave them that second thought as they carried on with their nightly lives, and soon the pair of them were gone.

Cas pulled down his hood as they entered the reception of the motel.

"Since when can you drive?" Meg asked him.

"Since I became human." He was tired. His eyes were raw and red and underneath were very visible purple bags. He went up to the main desk where a balding man stood and he seemed about to doze off too. She doubted they had many guests at this time of night. What time was it, anyway? She checked the clock on the wall. One thirty in the morning. They had been on the road for more than six hours. The ex-angel was now talking to the man.

"One room for two please."

"Uh huh. How long?"

Castiel looked back at her, confused. She groaned and came to stand beside him. "We'll take two weeks, I'll tell you if we need longer."

"Oh." The man grinned and winked at Cas. "Lucky you. Yes I'll give you a nice quiet one, make sure you don't bother the other guests. Tell you what, I'll give you ten percent off." He handed them a key and grinned again. Cas still wore that confused expression but Meg understood what he was trying to imply and decided to go along with it.

"Have fun, you two."

"Trust me, we will." Meg took him by the hand and gave a sweet smile back before she slammed the door of the room shut. As she began to get her bearings in this new room, Castiel began to sprinkle his usual salt line, around the edges of the wooden floor this time. How much salt did he get through, she wondered. And then he took a role of paper out of his bag. She had not seen this before and he pinned it up neatly to the wall. It was a map of the country and there were crosses through various cities. In a deep red pen, he scrawled a new one over Detroit. There were photos too of men and women of all ages, some even young children. Some he had even written names underneath, biblical sounding names by the looks of it. Like his.

"Are those all angels?"

"I think so. Humans who have gone missing or suddenly _changed_ according to their families."

Some of the photos had red crosses through the middle, similar to the ones on the map.

"And what about them?"

"Dead. I was able to acquire the information from the internet. Angel kills. They're building armies and slaughtering each other. All I can guess is that it must be chaos now that Naomi's gone."

"Naomi?"

"She was an angel."

"Yeah I pretty much figured that."

"She uh, controlled me. She tried to make me kill you and Dean."

 _That job was taken care of for you_ , she thought.

"And what, you faced up to her and took care of her yourself? Used you smitey powers for good? I'm flattered but you didn't have to do that for me."

"No. Metatron killed her. She warned me and I didn't believe her when I should have. If I'd listened then..." he shook his head and clasped his hands under his chin. "None of this would have happened. The angels would all still be in Heaven. And I would have my grace. And now I'm hunted."

"Well all I can say is I feel you. Try having the whole of Hell on your ass. Look when Crowley kil_." She stopped herself just in time. "When I last spoke to Crowley, before I got away on that day in the crypt, he said you were trying to shut the gates of Hell and lock us all away forever, including me. It true?"

He turned away from her, unable to meet her eye.

"It is, isn't it? I'm not that offended actually. It's what you get from working with a bunch of untrustworthy hunters."

"We would have found a way to save you."

"Oh yeah I'm sure you would. I just don't think Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee would."

"I don't understand that reference."

She found that almost reassuring. With the whole world going to Hell and her having no idea how she was back, the idea that he still hadn't bothered to learn anything about pop culture brought a smile to her face. "Just the same old Cas. One day, I am taking you to see a movie. So what Dean and Sam said about the demon trials or whatever. That was to do with this gates of Hell business?"

"Yes."

"And the angels? That too? So they thought they could just forget all the monster business and go live the perfect little life they'd always dreamed of."

"How did you know that?"

"I was in little Sammy's head for a week. Or had you forgotten that? Bet that was the closest he ever got with a girl. There's a joke you see with us demons. Any girl who goes near that boy and, well," she drew a single finger across her neck.

" For years, all you've been is good to us, Meg. Sam and Dean still do not trust you."

"Some things people just can't get over. Remember what I said about the good old days? When I tried to kill Daddy Winchester. When Yellow Eyes possessed him. When my dogs killed two of their best friends. It's hard to forget that kind of thing. I feel so stupid that I've ended up like this. All half good, half evil. Never thought it would work for me. In a way, I'm ashamed of some of the stuff I did back then. I mean, working for those douchebags?"

"But you learned to work for yourself. I like new you."

"Congratulations, you just made my day," she said in a snarky voice. She flopped backwards so that for just a second, her legs lifted into the air and then she sat back up. She kicked both boots off so that they landed in a messy pile. "Damn," she muttered. Then she looked up at him. "You're tired. I can tell. You should probably get some sleep."

"The angels might be tracking us."

"So what if they are? They're fallen, remember? I expect half their powers will be gone. I can hold them off easily enough. Remember when I stabbed that bitch in the back for you?" She had not meant to say the last two words but they had naturally slipped out. In her last few minutes, she had told Sam her cheesy, Romeo and Juliet love story. Demons should not love. It was as much of a sin to them as it was for a human to murder. Because they were soulless beings. He had deserved to know. After all, she knew all that boy's deepest darkest secrets.

"Right, you go up to your room right now young man or no TV for a month." She put on a stern voice and he looked at her for a moment, probably about to say something like there was no up to go to but then, he just climbed into the large double bed that had been specially booked for them. Not that she would use it. Within minutes, the silence had been replaced with soft but still loud enough that you could hear them, snores. The second she was perfectly sure that he was well and truly asleep, she rushed over to his bag and rummaged around until she found his laptop. Where he had got it, she had no idea but if he had stolen it then congratulations on his part. She switched it on and suddenly realized that he might have a password. Luckily, there wasn't one. She suspected he did not even know how to set one. It went straight onto his desktop. And no new background, no fun programmes to mess around him. This computer was purely for business. She logged onto google.

"OK, let's see what you got up to while mamma was away," she whispered. And then she searched for all unusual news stories in the last three months. There was tons on the supposed meteor shower and some people swearing that they saw miniature figures inside the strange balls of light, all turning them down and declaring them lunatics. Trust humans to have a supernatural experience and blame it on the weather. There was the usual amount of deaths, too, some which were likely the angel kills Cas had talked about, but that was not what she was looking for now. She scrolled through the missing persons reports too, and also some of these could have been people saying yes to angels, they seemed religious enough in their family's desperate pleas to help find them.

"It's just all about angels now, isn't it?" she whispered quite loudly. She sighed and continued reading. A girl had been transferred to hospital after being found at a roadside in Colorado with major burns to the chest and arms. She was still alive, but in critical condition. She continued to read the report, below which was a happy photo of the girl. She was in her late teens with dark brown, almost black, hair and shimmering blue eyes and she noticed she was wearing a rather unfashionable yellow cardigan. The disappearance of a few young girls in Oklahoma. And then two priests who had had their eyes burnt out (more rogue angels she presumed). But then, she finally found it. Three dead bodies had been found on a bus back at the end of May. But the wounds on the bodies, they had been made ten or twenty years ago. As far as she knew, angels liked fresh meat, they could not walk around in dead bodies like demons could. If they had been able to, she was sure that the world would be having to deal with their socially awkward dead loved ones coming back. Shame angels did not have quite the acting skills that demons did. In that same area, three soldiers had vanished too, and then been discovered in a little abandoned cave. Apparently, it had to be vacated because the block had been contaminated. And once again, they were dead from stab wounds. Sounded more like the Winchesters, that one. So these were demons, some of Crowley's men, she suspected. So she began to look more into that area. People had been getting lucky, winning the lottery or the girl of their dreams and then dying a few days later from what they thought were wolf attacks. But she had worked with these exact creatures for years. Hellhounds. But none of it seemed quite right. Crowley had always stuck to the deals and it was always the same offer: ten years. She had heard of a few rare cases, Dean Winchester for example, with only one year for his brother's life and in 2011, there had been a crossroads demon breaking the rules and taking people early. He was never seen again. But just none of this was like Crowley's work, the killing style, the making themselves known, it was not right. He had always cleaned up his messes. A new big bad in town? She was more worried for herself about that than anyone else.

____

Eventually, dawn broke and bright Summer light shone in through the cracks beneath the blinds. Her eyes flicked black as she got up off the couch. She realized she had gone into a state of half being asleep and had curled herself up into a ball. Her blonde hair was spread out around her head. And then she heard a noise from the bed as Cas awoke, too. He was still clothed in his many layers including a burgundy hoodie and green shirt. He still had not told her what had happened to the trenchcoat. It was strange. She had thought he was so fond of that thing. In a way, she missed it.

He stretched as he rose from the mattress and she twiddled the blade between her fingers.

"Sleep well?" she innocently asked. Obviously, he had not as he was still yawning and the bags beneath his eyes still failed to fade away, plus, he had only been asleep for four hours.

"Yes," he lied. "I need some coffee."

"You drink coffee?"

"I have acquired a taste for it. I know that it is what people use to help themselves wake up."

"Fine, we'll get you some coffee. I would have preferred a beer myself, but hey, you can't have everything. I bet no bar will even be open this early unless it's still from last night. First, I need to ask you a question. What happened to Crowley?"

Cas paused and stroked his lightly stubbled chin. "Sam, he was, uh, going to do the final trial for him. It was to cure a demon."

"Cure as in what? Give them some cough medicine?" She laughed at her own joke and he chuckled a bit too.

"No. I don't really understand what it was they were going to do to him. That was all Dean told me. I believe that they were attempting to make him human."

"Seriously? That's a thing? OK, so how were they going to _attempt to make him human_?" She put on a deep voice to try and imitate him.

"I don't know anything else. I'm sorry."

"Well, while you were being sleeping beauty, I did some research. Some demon's been making deals. Big time. Anyone new while I was gone?"

"Not that I've heard of."

"Great. As my only source of information, you're not very useful, Clarence. So, coffee?" He nodded and they made their way straight out of the room. The same man still stood at reception and his head rested on the desk. It rose as he saw them.

"Have a good time?"

"Oh yeah. It was great. I think we'll be keeping the room for a while." She strolled out and Cas followed. The man stared after them with some type of admiration.

The streets were very different in daylight. There were people, not so ready for work on a Monday morning and also carrying cups of coffee or newspapers tucked away under their arms. They stood out in their casual clothing in contrast to the office suits of those ordinary people. Meg spotted a Starbucks right across the road and they cut through traffic with her gripping his arm just tightly enough that she could steer him out of the path of any oncoming cars.

"So how do can you afford all these hotel rooms? You clearly don't have enough to last until the angels give up on you. Unless you have a secret job. Or you're pulling it out of your ass."

He sighed. "It is a very long story. Do you want me to give it in detail?"

"No, short version's good enough for me."

"Well, when Metatron sent me back to Earth, I woke up in a on a highway near a forest. And I watched them fall. It was beautiful and scary, seeing all my brothers and sisters. And then I walked, for hours and hours. I almost got hit by a car, but eventually, I got to a town. My clothes were dirty and I could not continue wearing them. I did not have enough money to wash them and eat so I...I stole some new clothes."

"Ha ha. That's my boy." She gave him a small pat on the back and quickly glanced around before leading him onwards.

"I had to drink and urinate and_"

"OK, stop. Stop right there."

"Well, it is a natural occurrence."

"Yeah, well guess what? Not for me. Also, I just stopped you crashing into that guy." She gestured in front of them in the queue where a large man stood wearing an even larger T-shirt.

"And I used what money I had left to get to Michigan by bus. And get the tattoo. And then I begged for a few days, but I only got a few dollars. I was sleeping on the streets. So I broke into a bank. And I feel really bad about it, but it was all I could do."

"Well, I'd say you should get a job but_"

"The angels would find me."

"Exactly."

"What name are you using? I'm guessing you didn't go round telling people your name is Castiel are you because people would start asking questions?" She lowered her voice a bit to make sure no one was listening. It would certainly be a strange conversation.

"Clarence," he said, finally.

And then she burst out laughing and this time, people really did turn and stare. "You just don't get the irony, do you? That's it. DVD store next door. I'm renting us some classics. The receptionist guy will be hearing some noise he won't quite be expecting." They reached the front of the line in the queue and the young woman with the hair in a bun and a name badge that read 'Katie', asked them for their order.

"I'll take a frapuccino. He'll take an espresso. Regular size. Takeaway."

"Alright. And the name?"

"Clarence," she said and then pointed behind to clearly show that it his name and not hers.

"Four eighty."

Castiel took the money from his pocket and handed it to their server. The dollar bills were all scrunched up in a ball so that she had to carefully count it before handing them the change.

"OK. Two minutes."

Meg shrugged as the girl turned around to make their orders. "What? I could do with a treat. So could you, in fact. I'll get us some money. It will be fine. Which leads me to ask, are we meeting up with your boyfriends?"

A few people were looking over at them now, most likely assuming that this was all playful flirting.

"They are in the bunker and I don't think they need us leading the angels to them."

"Bunker? Wait, what? So they actually have a home now?"

"Dean seems to think it is a home. But Sam he, uh, I think he thinks of it as more of a workplace."

"Well, kudos for them."

"Yes, well, I don't think they want me in the way."

"Still got family issues that need solving?"

"Yes. Family issues need solving."

Two coffee cups with the bright green logo on the side, and cardboard wrapped around to stop themselves burning their fingers, were placed in front of them, carefully labelled in black felt with 'Clarence.'

And they walked down the street then. Castiel treated his coffee like something made by the Gods, inhaling deeply at every noisy sip and it really must feel like that to him, after all those centuries of not having that relief by eating or drinking when you are feeling hungry. Her own was sugary and sweet and she used the widened end of her straw to scoop small lumps of the frothy cream into her mouth. Finally, the taste of the caffeine kicked in and though she was not supposed to get tired, she certainly felt more awake.

Cas had stopped outside a store now. At first, she assumed he was waiting for her, but as she passed him and he still stood stock still, she sighed and turned back around.

"What are you doing?"

"You said we would stop at the DVD store."

"Right, well, I was joking."

She could see the disappointment hidden in his face. She supposed they had nothing else to do. Sometimes, when she first escaped from Hell or at least when she escaped from Hell during the twentieth century, she had wanted to see what she had missed when she was downstairs and just what the modern age had brought her. She had watched some movies, most of which in her opinion had been complete crap, some books she had read if she did have the time and of course, she had listened to music. And now, he would want to do the same.

So Meg pushed the door open. It was a cramped little place, both selling and letting people rent movies and TV box sets which all seemed to be jumbled together anyway, they obviously had a bad sorting system or otherwise the few visitors they did get just picked things up and could not be bothered to put them back in the right places. It was one of those places where you can tell the owners are just desperate to make the few extra dollars they need for a flat or to go to college. They had tried to decorate everything as best as they could. They had posters for Star Wars and Godzilla and Superman and mostly things filmed in between the fifties and the nineties. It could all sure do with a good dusting though.

And Cas, he was like an excitable puppy or small child who made no help at all to the mess by rushing over and picking up one such box, glancing at it and discarding it carelessly back on the shelf, only for it to topple to the lightly carpeted ground a few seconds later. The next two, he balanced precariously on top of each other and she was surprised these ones did not fall. He selected a few that caught his interest. All had happy titles and equally happy covers with smiling families or couples, usually with a pet dog too.

"That's what you want, is it?"

He nodded, slowly but eagerly.

"Alright. Well, there's something I want so why don't you go and take them over to the counter?" And he did. He could have some fun watching his way through those. She found the role of his mom being passed on to her. At least she would be able to teach him what she knew and what she had learned.

And then she went to the classics shelf. She had no idea why she was even doing this. It would be stupid and she had not even watched this particular movie in years. But she needed to show him. And there it was, still in an old fashioned cover against yet another bright background. It's A Wonderful Life.

_____

The girl was hunched back into the corner as far as she could go with her knees tucked into her chest. She should be putting up a fight and, in fact, she had for hours, tugging at the chain that bound her to the wall so that she could come free but it was no use. It was strong and she was the complete opposite. For a moment, she found herself wishing she had not skipped all of those gym classes in high school or gone to swim practice or tried for the cheerleading team like her mom had suggested. At least that would have made a small difference. And she was all worn out now.

She was not screaming. Not now. She was over that general shock of when she had cried. She had just hoped that maybe this was all some silly, mistake, maybe whoever had brought her here would let her go. But kidnappings don't happen accidentally.

 It smelled awful in with the corpses surrounding her, some spread out over stone tables and where there were no stone tables left, they had just been dumped on the floor. She must be the only living person for miles. How she had got here, she could not even remember, one moment she had been on her way to a lecture and the next, she was stuck in this place.

And then came the footsteps. They were slow and hard against the stone floor and a shadow bounced across a wall. She tugged some more at her chains which only lead to some more heavy breathing and then her collapsed. It was no good, she was trapped. She had yelled and yelled for ages. No one could hear her. No one was coming. She was completely alone and vulnerable. The figure stepped into her path and for one second, she could make out their face and it was the last face she would ever see as a pit of darkness opened before her eyes...


	3. Rising

Crowley had known when the angels fell. As he sat in that church, he had heard Dean come in, stop Moose with what he was about to do. They had shouted at each other, right in front of him, but yet he had not been able to hear. The human heart inside of him, poisoned with his toxic essence, it hammered in his chest like never before, blocking out the sound. And he felt the human blood rushing through his fiery veins. His eyes were open, but all he saw was darkness and a few blurs among it. But that did not stop him knowing.

The needle had not been plunged into his neck the final time, he had not completed the transformation from the demonic king of Hell to human. But he had gotten pretty close. Something was developing inside him, something good, something with feeling. It was writhing around, trying to break free and a part of him wanted it to. But the rest of him could control it. For now.

As the skies parted, the lights blinked before his still open eyes, but they were nothing to him. But still he knew just as well as he knew whenever an angel was nearby, he felt that connection that was wrong in just about every way, so repelling as thousands of them fell just a step closer to him. All of them would be angry. All of them would be bloodthirsty. That rebel angel of theirs, he would be their first target. And then probably Sam and Dean too. But once those three idiots were out of the way, it would surely be his time too. And when they came, he would be weak and defenseless and craving humanity and this time, there would be nothing he could do to save himself.

Now he sat in yet more darkness, bound within the many devils traps that Moose and Squirrel had managed to pull together to keep him trapped. Weeks had passed since the big event and it had been confirmed it was true. The angels had been ejected from their homes. He had had visitors. Kevin, Sam, once even the Wicked Witch of the West, that was quite an experience. But most of the time, it was just him, alone. And he hated being alone, he really did, in his mansions, he had always had the comfort of his demon slaves. And all that time, he had to worry about Abaddon, their brand new queen, stamping all over his legacy.

But something else was happening now and he could feel it. It was not like with the angels for instead of being repelled by whatever this thing was, he was attracted to it. This new thing, or rather things, they were on Earth too. He was sensing them already. Two armies. And both coming for him.

_____

Castiel stared, perplexed, at the tiny television screen that accommodated the corner of their motel room. His chin rested on his hands, which were grasped tightly together, the way he sat when he was distressed, but right now, he was just puzzled. Possibly by the special effects or maybe just wondering how on Earth something this awful could have been made into a movie. At least, she assumed it was awful To be honest, Meg had not even been watching, instead, she had absorbed herself in the magazine the human had bought for her the day before. It took reading it through really slowly to last the whole ninety minutes, some articles she had reread even if they were not to her interest. Still, it was interesting to know which actresses had broken up with which football players and which pop stars had put on weight in the three months missing from her lifetime.

The remains of their coffee rested on the little glass table in front of them, right beside her boots and she glanced upwards as the final credits came up.

"OK, so now that's over, I'm gonna ask the big question. What do you make of what people are passing for entertainment these days?"

He looked over his shoulder. "It was certainly... interesting."

"Interesting as in..." She gestured with her hand to allow him to continue.

"Well, it wasn't very realistic. Most people, I don't know, but I don't think they would be able to deal with problems like that so easily."

She had absolutely no idea what problems he was talking.

"What so you think that all issues can't be solved with hugs and kisses?" she mocked.

"Well, no, they can't. They need more than that. They need to know they can trust them."

"Did brother number one and two teach you that?"

"Yes." He nodded. "They did." He looked away from her and off into the distance or as far as he could see through the window.

"So," she said to break the silence. "Ideas on what to do next? Or do you want some quiet time to discuss your feelings?" She had been joking, but it seemed like that was exactly what he wanted to do.

"I miss my wings, Meg. I have wanted to be accepted back. I believed in what I was, what I was fighting for but now I am just worthless."

Was it her imagination or did she see a tear in his eye?

"Those boys never gave you credit for anything you did, huh? Look, I'm not one for any of this emotional stuff. The best I could offer you is a glass of milk seeing that's all you have."

"I have walked among humans for only a few years now. I have barely learned their ways. And now I am one too."

"Well, I can't give you much advice on that front, not being human myself." It was like a session with a psychologist and a pretty bad psychologist at that.

"For the first time," he continued. "I'm on my own. Apart from you of course. And I'm running properly,  I can't fly."

And then Meg laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"We're the same Clarence."

"What?"

"You and me. We are one and the same."

"I don't think I understand."

"That's  the thing. See you, you're on the run from your frat brothers because you dared to have a mind of your own because that's such a crime in the angels' books. Me, well since Satan got locked away again, Hell's wanted my head on a plate. Neither of us have a home and we're both just... outcasts."

And then he laughed too.

"What's so funny?" she repeated.

"You."

"Now I'm the one who's confused."

"Well, I like to have you around. You can make me laugh. You have gone through some of the worst things in the_"

"If you're talking about Hell than really it is nothing. Just a few centuries of torture to toughen me up."

"And you're so positive about everything." His gaze was fixed upon her and his eyes sparkled with affection. His hand edged slowly towards hers.

"You know you're cute as a human. Sweeter. Course I still prefer angel you, but this could just about work." And then suddenly she felt him take her hand and it was with sharp grip, too.

"I like having you here, Meg. I want you to stay." And then his lips came closer to her like they had on that dreaded day in the middle of the Apocalypse, but this time they really were kissing. She pushed his face away with one finger.

"Learnt that from the pizza man did you?"

"Yes. Well and other things." And with that, he began to unbutton his shirt.

_____

Lilith twisted her new neck around, making sure all of the muscles now belonged to her, that she was squeezed into every smallest corner. She could feel the young blood of the sweet virgin girl inside of her, so fresh and healthy. She let her eyes flick to their natural white. She was hungry. She needed meat. She surveyed her surroundings. A small room, made of stone and freezing cold. And everywhere, bodies lying all over the floor in various states of decomposition. Before her, was a man resting on his side with his eyes tightly shut. Newly dead. Not even cold yet. She reached down, her fingers formed a claw shape and reached for his stomach when his eye opened in bright yellow.

"Azazel."

"Sister. Thought you didn't recognize me for a moment. Wouldn't do to kill dear old bro now would it?" He stood up, one side of him facing her so that she could see the profile of the face of the middle aged man that he wore. His lips twisted into a sneer.

"We're back. All of us." A lump of flesh fell from her arm so that blood dripped from the wound, cold and lifeless down her pale skin.

"Your meatsuit_"

"Wearing away. Not all of us are as powerful as you and me, brother. On the way out, many of our dead armies had to cling onto me. They couldn't claw their way out on their own. They're inside of me, each and every one. Not for long." As if to demonstrate, she grabbed a single corpse by the collar of his coat, breathing black smoke through his parted lips. She let go and instead of collapsing to the ground, the body stood up straight, now with black eyes.

"Your majesty."

"We will create more." She addressed her brother.

"No time to waste, sweetheart. Our father is calling." It was a more whining voice, piercing to the ear, drooling, all of the words seemingly spat out and all coming from Azazel. He turned so he faced her straight on. While half of his face was the vessel he had been last in before his death, with glowing yellow eyes, the other half was younger, bonier, with a beard and white eyes.

"Alastair."

"I looked better the last time you saw me. I had a body of my own. Our essences are tied together, we cannot be in two separate bodies."

Lilith looked at them with her head to the side. She brushed down her white dress. "It does not matter. It can be fixed, once he is risen. We have so much work to do."

_____

The bed creaked with a low groan underneath the weight of the pair of them. Meg rolled on top of him and pulled her lips away from his. His breath smelt of mint, of the toothpaste he had been practically swallowing, and of coffee too but she did not care. All the worries she had had about this, all the problems this might have caused, were gone now. Her back arched into a catlike position as her hand stroked down his chin so that she could feel the rough stubble that continued to grow now his aging process had begun again. Her short fingernails found his chest beneath his shirt. His hand was tangled in a chunk of her brown hair and her other hand came round to the back of his head to mimic his position. Her body came down against his and denim rubbed against leather.  She curled into him and his hand rested on her shoulder blade. And then she let out a long breath. She felt safe. Not that he was going to protect her. But she felt all powerful. He had given her this strength.  Finally, she leapt up from the position she had gotten so comfortable in. Now would come the 'that was fun' speech and then the awkward silence. Although every silence with him was awkward though, to be fair.

She snatched up her own jacket which hung crumpled from the end of the bed and she stretched out her arms as she dragged it on over her shoulders. Castiel was already doing the top buttons of his shirt back up. His cheeks were blushing furiously in a deep shade of scarlet and she knew that this was the most intimate he had been with anyone, no matter how innocent.

And then a girl appeared in the room. She was young, sixteen or seventeen. Cas went straight for the angel blade.

"It is alright. I'm not here to hurt you." As if to prove her point, a second angel blade fell from beneath her sleeve to the floor with a clatter.

"You're an angel."

"Am I? What is an angel without its wings? Castiel. What are you doing with this abomination?"

"Name calling. Not starting off on the best of terms, are we?" Meg strode forwards bare feet echoing on the carpeted floor. "Hey, I'm Meg."

"It's alright," nodded Cas. "She's a friend."

"To you? I know. But the question is are you a friend to me." The girl was pretty enough on the outside with curling black hair and golden brown eyes on caramel skin and she wore a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt. As a human, he could no longer see the identifiable grace, hidden beneath. "I heard the stories about you. How you loved the humans, so much that you wanted to be like them. How you worked with Metatron to make all of us fall."

"How did you_"

" Rumors fly around. I miss Heaven. I am weak like this." She pulled at the hem of her shirt to reveal a patch of rotting, red skin on her collarbone. "This is my second vessel in my time here."

"What is your name?" he finally said.

There was a disappointed and strangely human groan from her. "So it is true? Your grace is gone?" And then she answered him. "Hael. There are a few of us. We work for neither side."

"Side?" Meg asked.

"The angels on Earth, they are splitting into two armies. They are afraid and they need a leader. Bartholomew and Malachi. Bartholomew is all about justice and leadership. But both are very concerned with finding you."

"Bartholomew?" He sounded shocked. "I fought with him. Against Raphael. You say he's after me?"

"From what I've heard, yes. He has tried to recruit me a few times already. I fear that the only other choice is death."

"It's alright, Hael. We will help you."

"We? You and... that?"

"Her! I prefer 'her'." Meg really did not like this other angel at all.

"Meg!" He turned back to Hael. "You _can_ trust her. She has been good to me."

"Yes. I can see that."

Meg scowled at her at the implication even though she knew it was true. Castiel failed to catch it and continued speaking.

"The rest of you, where are they?"

"A few minutes from here. With my wings gone, I cannot travel far. And I am one of the stronger few." She began to shake her head then, turned and looked away. Now all the hopes she had had was gone. Meg knew what it was like to lose everything you believed in, and she almost sympathized with the angel.

"Everything has changed so much. The last time I was on Earth, I- the human race were newborn, wearing cloths and living in caves. They were basically just apes. But what they were creating - it was beautiful. It was the beginning of an era. And I loved it. I created something for them to show it. It was a canyon, a large canyon."

"Wait a second." Meg held a finger up in the air. "You're saying you built the grand canyon?"

"You have heard of it?" Hael replied.

"Wow. Someone's has some catching up to do," commented Meg.

" _We_ are going to do everything we can to help you, Hael, and the others. If you will let us."

The angel hesitated for a moment and her caramel brown eyes seemed to be trying to look into the demon's mind, as if trying to pick out every thought and tell if she really was 'kind of good'. Meg had heard the tales of angel prison and angel torture. She had heard some of the things they could do to make you tell the truth and confess everything. Frankly, she was just surprised that these loyal soldiers could do anything deemed evil.

Finally, Hael spoke. "I will try to believe you if I can though I always have my angel blade ready." Her fist seemed to grow tighter around the handle and more protective of herself. Meg knew well enough not to mess with her.

"Will you show us?" Cas asked.

She nodded. "Come."

Meg made a grab for Castiel's arm as he began to leave their room. "Wait. You-you should go with her."

"What?"

"I mean I'm completely pro-help the angels, if they're willing to help us anyway, but if they see me walk in, they'll be like you were the first time we met. All 'we must destroy the abomination'. It will be a bloodbath. I'll stay behind and put up some more protections. I could look into what I know on spells. You said it was a spell, right? That the holy transformer cast on you?"

Cas' lips parted for a moment to question it in his own mind before speaking aloud. "Holy transformer?"

"Hell, you're slow. I was making a joke, Clarence. _Metatron._ You get me?" She clicked her fingers in front of his face and a dawn of realization crept over it.

"I understand."

"Good. Now go off and have fun at your high school reunion with your friends." She waved him off. She was scared of how these other fallen angels would react to her. Hael certainly had not warmed up so what was to say they wouldn't. They could be worse than her, too. It was not like she hadn't faced angels before, although the first time, that certain angel had been trapped in a ring of holy fire and had still managed to cause serious damage to her mast. She recalled a good bit of witchcraft and sunlight to get it properly healed and the last of the burn marks had not vanished until six or seven months later. And then, the second time, she had been thrown into a wall, just for being in the same room as a prophet. None of this was written in the job description for sure.

_____

A host of eyes turned on the human entering the room. Their hideout was a warehouse, a place where humans would not search, simply because they were abandoned and they would never bother to ask why but simply carry on with their daily life.

The almost silent chatter had grown even more silent at his arrival. They could read the fact he had no grace almost immediately. It would take a good few seconds for them to realize who he was but for now, they were probably wondering why Hael had brought him. Maybe they thought he was a hunter. Dean had tried to help him become one. Apparently, he had sucked. It must have been somewhere around the time he screamed at the distraught woman whose husband had recently died. He could laugh about that now. If this were the time for laughing.

He wished he could identify his brothers and sisters, but right now, all he saw were their flesh masks. It made him wonder what he was. Without his grace, was he still the same person with the same feelings and personality? Or had he changed dramatically?

One angel stood up. He noted her dark hair, which fell in a fringe down to just above her eyes, which were a blue like his own or at least, those of the body he was in. She wore a suit. He had noticed that was a common fashion for angels as well.

"Who is this, sister?" She seemed to be particularly familiar with Hael and he saw an exchange of something between them.

"Hannah. I have brought us Castiel."

There were murmurs around the room at this and a few others got to their feet. He now had a chance to count. Eleven, including him. Five of those were standing.  He took in some other faces, too. A young girl with dyed blonde hair in a sheriff's uniform, and another woman with brown skin and hair that was braided, an elderly man with very dark eyes and one red headed child.

"You brought him here?" It was the child who spoke and his nostrils flared. There was pure anger, hatred and of course despair.

He found he was once again, mentally blaming himself for that.

"He is a danger to us all! You heard what he did! Hael, how could you trust him?"

Hannah, the other angel who had spoken, raised a hand and then lowered it again as if gesturing for him to calm down. "Please. Let her speak. I'm sure she had good reason for bringing him to us."

"Or maybe she is a spy for Metatron. Maybe she is leading us to our destruction. I expect the reward was high!" he shouted, accusingly.

Cas found it eerie, listening to this mature voice coming from the mouth of someone so young. He had had underage vessels before, but he had never really thought much of it. So maybe this was a sign that he was changing.

"I found him in a human motel," Hael said, loudly, over him. "He was staying with the demon whore."

There were even louder and more aggressive, mutters after this and one more of them rose.

"This is outrageous!" the child angel shouted. "You are willing to trust a traitor who wishes for humanity and would rather spend time with two dysfunctional humans and an abomination than with his own brothers and sisters."

"We must listen to him," said Hannah. "We cannot kill him on sight because we disagree with him without hearing his own argument. What would that make us? Barbaric creatures," she stated.

He came forwards. "I never wanted any of this to happen. I wanted the fighting to stop. I am unarmed. You can search me if you want, but I swear to you, I left all my weapons behind."

The child nodded."Search him." And two of the soldiers as he was now referring to them as, came forwards. They ran their hands up and down his clothes, pausing at each pocket to give it a more thorough check.

"He's clean," one of them announced.

"Explain yourself," said the child.

He sighed and he felt vulnerable with all of them surrounding them. He wished that he had his angel blade. As long as he could keep their trust, though, he would not be attacked.

"No one's been able to get on, not since the Apocalypse. There was the war against Raphael-"

"Not to mention when you slaughtered millions of us," the child spat.

"And there was never going to be peace. We were not the creatures our father intended us to be. I admit, I was naive. I believed every word Metatron said. He said he could close the gates, using the angel tablets and he said that we could sort everything out. And I thought it was true. I trusted him and I take full responsibility. Naomi warned me and I didn't listen. And it's my fault she died too. But I don't want to lead you. I don't even want to fight. I just want to be your brother. I want to be an angel. Please." He felt a droplet of water trickle from his eye. He put his finger to it. It was a tear.

"And what of the demon?"

" _Meg_ has helped me in ways you cannot understand and I can never repay. So have Dean, and Sam. They are not all the same."

There was a pause. A deafening pause in which so many jumbled together, wild thoughts flooded through his head at a speed that he could barely process them. And then, Hannah stepped forwards.

"I believe you, Castiel."

There was another silence and he longed for something else to happen. And then it did. The whole room was standing now, all attention focused on him. The echoed Hannah, one at a time at first and then, as a chorus.

"We believe you, Castiel."

The child stepped forward again. It seemed by now that he was their leader and Cas wondered if he had known him in Heaven. "Hannah or Muriel will report to you every week. You are right, you are not our leader and you never will be. Not all of us are as trusting as you. And we will never be able to trust you again. But you are useful. So, for now, you are free to go."

He began to walk away, but not before he heard the child angel whisper to another: "Keep an eye on his demon pet."


	4. Forgetting

_"Cas." He rolled onto his back. A figure was hovering over him, although they seemed small and distant. He could just make out their whispers, over and over again and they seemed emotionless like words written on a sheet of paper at first and then, sadder, more full of regret. They were calling his name or at least his nickname._

_"Who are you?" His question came out as a low growl._

_"You know me. You know me very well." It was louder, this time and the speaker was getting closer. They were slender and long haired, still, the face was blurry. The voice was mildly feminine. He was no longer in his bed which the hotel manager had joked about as he came back in, asking what happened to his girlfriends, obviously referring to both Meg and Hael. He was in a field. He knew this place. This was where he had woken up, graceless and alone, as the angels had fallen. And there was no cream colored ceiling with pieces of graffiti dictating that Harry had been there or that JW was in love with CN '5EVAH.' There were none of the walls and not even the sound of Meg breathing as she, wide awake, paced up and down the small space that he was already calling his new home. There was an empty sky before him. Complete emptiness, stretching out to the soon to be empty Heavens. And slowly, the clouds began to split open._

_"No," he said. "You can't do this to me. Whoever you are. You can't make me watch this."_

_"Not everything is your fault." And then, she stood on the ground, over him. A long black coat with none of the buttons done up and a very low cut, V-necked, white lace, shirt. The skin beneath it was but a few shades darker and thin enough that it revealed the fragile bones below of her skinny neck. But this person was far from weak. Straight, crimson hair, swept upwards in the wind and a strand fell into her hazel eye, which she, absent-mindedly, pushed away. And she offered him a smile with small, pink lips._

_"Hey, Cas."_

_"You. You killed Sam!"_

_She paced around him and cast her eyes on him. Her coat seemed to have grown longer now or she had shrunk, and it trailed along the floor. "You've changed so much, but you just can't forgive, can you? Little brother," she added._

_"You died. Dean told me. He said Michael killed you."_

_"Maybe I am dead. Maybe I'm not. What does it matter to you? You're dreaming, Cas. That must be fun for you."_

_"Anna." He finally spoke her name. Not her real name. He had not used that in thirty years. She preferred her human name. "What are you doing?"_

_"I'm here to help you."_

_All he could manage was "Why?"_

_"Think about it, Cas. This is a dream. Your mind conjured up the one person that it thought could help you in a time of need."_

_"I don't need anything from you!"_

_She laughed. It was a kindly laugh and something inside his heart warmed up. "You forget why you rebelled. Not because you had grown fond of humanity. I was the one who taught you free will. I offered for you to join me back then, but you refused. You sent me to angel prison instead, not the most fun of my life." She grinned again at Cas' facial expression. "It's OK, I'm not asking for any credit. Not revenge either." She came to sit down beside him. "You're scared. You don't like seeing these images, do you? It's not real, just like me. You can make it go away, you know. This is all your mind."_

_"It's my fault, Anna." The lights began to appear now and they were plunging downwards at equal speeds. His friends were up there somewhere. Every still alive one of his brothers and sisters was up there._

_"You regret what happened." She placed a thin hand on his shoulder. "You wish you could go back and change it. And every dream is the same. You see this and other things in your past, you wish you could change. You and I both know, meddling with time's not a good idea. The present always stays the same. You took Dean back to see his mom and dad. They still both died. Because that's a key moment in history. I regretted what happened with the apocalypse. I could have been there to try and stop it, to try and stop Sam or reason with Ruby."_

_"Ruby? The demon?"_

_"You and me both know that demons aren't all bad. Believe it or not, Ruby wasn't all bad. And I didn't want her to die. Because I knew her." Anna took a deep sigh as she continued. "And I took some of the blame. Killing Mary Winchester, it was one of the last things I wanted to do and the same with Sam. And I learned things the hard way. You're my brother, Cas. I remember at the start of humanity, I remember us observing them together in all their beauty and wonder. Surely that means something to you."_

_"Are you trying to tell me something?"_

_Her eyes widened and her skin grew even paler. "Do you remember what you said to me when I told you we were alike?"_

_He shook his head, though he knew perfectly well. He shut his eyes. He just wanted to disappear into a corner and escape from this nightmare. Suddenly, the field was gone. And they were sitting in a corner. But it was no longer just him and Anna. Or rather it was. Because there were two identical versions of themselves standing a few meters away from them, in the center of this dark room. The single light bulb over their heads was out. Anna was dressed exactly the same, but he wore his trench coat. He seemed younger and that was probably because angels don't age. This wasn't him. This was the angel-him._

_And past-Anna was holding his hand._

_The version of Cas that was but wasn't him stared back at her and finally broke away from her grip._

_"I am nothing like you!" he hissed. "You fell!"_

_And then they were back in the field. Anna was still beside him. Once more, the sky was clear._

_"You see," she said. "We are the same and you know that's true. We have those we loved and cared for, people who it is unthinkable for angels to love. People we wished we could save and didn't. We try to mess with things to get what we want but life isn't always fair. And somehow, we just can't follow the rules. You can't save everybody. But the one thing you have to know is that not everything is your fault. You can't take the fall for everything." And then she was gone into the night._

_______

"Clarence. Hey, Cas. Wake up!" He found his shoulders being shaken as his eyes blinked open to be filled with sunlight. Meg was standing over him with her boots taken off so that her feet were just bare. He saw now how smooth and fresh they looked. It was odd, she was always running and fighting and yet they looked like they belonged to a newborn baby.

"Hey, my eyes are on my face, not the floor. You talk in your sleep by the way."

"What was I saying?"

"Oh, I don't know. You said 'no' a lot if that helps. Oh, and you said a name. A girl's name. Alice or Ann or something boring like that. Haven't got a girlfriend now you're human now have you?"

"No." He firmly shook his head, not realizing that she hadn't been serious. But she seemed relieved.

"So who is she then?"

"Who?"

"Ann, Alice, whoever this Catholic school chick is."

"Oh, uh, I don't know, I don't remember." That was a lie. He knew full well who Meg was talking about and he remembered his dream in great detail. It was all so vivid.

"Well, what's the latest news from the Garrison."

"There are too few of them to be a Garrison. And they still don't seem to trust you."

"Glad to see nothing's changed. Well, we'd better be heading off. There's a thing, down in Rexford, Idaho. Thought you might want to check it out. Sounds angely." She held up a newspaper article. "Three dead in the past week. Found in their homes. Found all over their homes. They kinda, exploded. Into pink goo, it says. Sound familiar?"

Cas was already getting up, changing right in front of her and pulling on his hoodie. "Yes," he replied.

_____

Dean  pushed his way through the crowds of journalists with microphones who were just a tiny bit more excited for this than him and were shoving everybody else out of the way to try and get a word with the sheriff or another of his co-workers. That was no surprise. This was clearly the biggest thing that went on around here as it should be in any town and it was a contest to see who could get the most reliable account. And this was probably only twenty-five percent of them, leaving the others waiting outside, trying to snap pictures through the pink stained windows. He had got to the crime scene earlier than most people. He had to leave Sam behind, of course, making up excuses about the trials, tablets, the usual.

It seemed like the same story for every case they tried to solve. A week ago, Ezekiel had almost been exposed when he healed Sam from some bite from a crazy English chef who seemed keen on eating raw animals. And of course, blaming it on the trials.

Before that, Sam had been knocked unconscious while Charlie mysteriously came back from the dead. And once again, it was because of the trials. Sam was a smart guy, he couldn't keep lying to him forever. He had the Devil inside him for God's sake. He could sense some minor angel. And he would realize something was fishy any day now.

So his brother and Kevin had remained behind, translating as usual, maybe keeping the resident King of Hell in their basement company.

As he came in, they had made him put on a plastic suit, maybe to make sure it was not contagious or something like that. But the stench was overpowering. Of animal guts if this was what animal guts smelt like. Fortunately, he had never had the pleasure of smelling animal guts and he did not really want to.

"FBI," he stated to a police officer in an official manner. He towered over him and it would be funny to see how it would look with Sam next to him.

"Oh yeah. A few others of you guys arrived earlier."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, some dude, seemed pretty out of it. Must have been drinking last night. And there was a girl, too. Thinking some office romance, maybe. You know them?"

"The guy, yes. Girl, not so sure about. Yeah, well, thanks for the help... dude." He patted his shoulder as he passed him. A dark haired man in another plastic suit was bent over a spot on the floor that was especially pink from the insides of this poor woman, and he knew who it was before they got up.

"Hey agent, thought they only hired professionals here," Dean said with a laugh and then, as he looked his friend up and down, he remembered what was happening right now. This was the first time he had seen him as a human and apart from slightly more stubble on his chin, he was exactly the same.

"Where were you, man? Sammy's been sick and we needed you."

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's been hard, I've been on the run." He bent his head.

"No, it's OK. I'm angry. For a while, I thought it was the end for Sam."

"But you got help, from an angel. Ezekiel."

Dean recalled their phone call. That had been about a month ago now. That was how long it had been. A month. "Yeah, yeah, Zeke helped. Still, I'm a little worried about him." He sighed, and cast his eyes to the floor. "So what's this about a 'partner'? Find a girlfriend? Need a little calming down now you don't have your juice?"

Cas's face split into an excited and childish grin. "Better. I found a friend. She's out the back." He led Dean out into their garden and it was nice to see some green instead of all that disgusting pink. Dean wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Another hunter? A bit of help for them? But it was nothing like that. This was a face he knew well. And she did not look at all happy to see him either. But Cas was blind to that.

"Meg," Dean nodded for he was unsure what else to say to her.

"Dean," she said in return.

"Well, I-I certainly didn't think I'd be seeing you-" He stopped to see Meg shaking her head at him and then gesturing towards Cas.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you in a while," he corrected himself. No. This couldn't be right. She was dead. He had seen her die. Him and Sam had driven off into the distance as she lay, rotting there. And he had felt guilty, a little anyway because she had just sacrificed herself for them and they had still failed to ever trust her. But he had forgotten. Back then, they had much more important things to think about.

But maybe she hadn't died. Maybe it had been some trick. She could have been a double agent, reporting their every move back to Crowley. That thought dissolved almost immediately. She had openly hated that son of a bitch, more than him and even though she was a pretty good liar, he was certain she had not been lying. Anyway, why would now be a good time to show herself when he was their prisoner?

"Well, it's nice to see you," said Meg and he was not quite sure if that was sarcasm or not. "But we should probably be going. We've got a motel a few hours away. Leave this to the _professionals_."

"No, Meg, Cas, you should come stay in the bunker. We can work on this case together, with Sam and Kevin, too."

"You're kidding. That little geek kid's still crashing with you? Anyway, it's a nice offer, but we really should get back."

"No, Meg, we left all our things in the back of the car."

"Hold up. You guys have a car?"

"Meg uh, she stole it," Cas replied. "But Meg, we need to go to the bunker. Sam needs my help. I might be able to fix him in some way."

Dean needed Cas to convince Meg to come with them. He could think of a plan or make conclusions about her on the spot. For that, he needed his brother's help. Sam knew her better, anyway. And Cas would be too blind to notice anything suspicious about her. Plus, he didn't even know about her so called death. Dean had not told him. He knew he should have but Meg clearly didn't want him to know, for reasons of her own. And he supposed her owed that to her since she had sacrificed herself for them.

"Fine, but I get to ride shotgun. I'm sick of you sticking me in the backseat the whole time."

"No. I don't trust you enough around Baby."

"Glad to see nothing's changed, Deano. Still think your car's got a mind and personality of its own?"

"Hey." As she began to stride away, he called after her. "It's a vintage Chevy Impala. It has soul. If it makes you feel better, I'm going to tell Cas to go in the back to keep an eye on you. Just no sex in the backseat."

"I expect that's reserved for you."

"Well, yeah, it is my car."

_____

"I don't get it, Dean. What is she doing here?" Sam chased Dean up the stairs, trying to keep up with his fast pace. They were out of earshot from the others who were busy looking at the tablet, down in the library. Dean had arrived with Meg and Cas half an hour ago and after Sam had given not very convincing, friendly greetings, he had pulled Dean aside.

"Well, I was wondering the same thing as you. I figured I needed your brains to work the whole thing out."

"But Dean, we saw her die. And unlike you or me, demons don't come back to life. Lilith, Azazel, never heard from them again, did we?"

"Right. So what's your explanation for this, boy genius?"

Sam shrugged. "Shapeshifter?"

"How would that work? If it were a shapeshifter, it would come as a person we trusted like... Bobby." Dean turned away sadly as he remembered their lost friend. He was in Heaven now, thanks to the two of them.

"Well a demon, maybe. Another demon, possessing her meatsuit?"

"No. She's too convincing."

"She convinced you that she was me for a week."

"You don't want it to be her, do you? Oh yeah cause you had that teenage crush on her. Still clinging to that, are you?" The tone he used was not teasing like the jokey older brother he used to be.

"No. I mean, I'd be glad to see her. It would be nice to have a friend right now.  And after what she did for us, I think we can trust her. But if it really is Meg, then we're in for a world of trouble."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it means that things are more screwed now than we thought before."

_____

"So," Dean said as they came back down the stairs to where Kevin, Castiel and Meg were sitting among the books."

"Love the new hideout," Meg commented. "Yeah, it's all very you."

Dean ignored her. "So, what's the word?"

"Well angel-boy here's all caught up in this case."

"I know what's causing the attacks." And Cas truly looked terrified as if from a bad memory or flashback. He did not want to think about this. "It's an rit zien"

"A what?"

"It's a type of angel. On the battlefields, in Heaven, they were the medics. What they did was horrible.  They attended to the wounded and then, with those who were beyond saving, they destroyed them."

"That thing's making people go boom all over the place? Why? I mean, they're humans."

"It tracks them from their pain. From what the sheriff told me before you arrived, the deaths, all of them were already going through pain. The last victim was on the suicide hotline."

"So what, they're depressed and it comes and finds them? Why?"

"Humans and angels are different. I've been on Earth for years and only just started to grasp your ways."

Meg chortled at that. "Yeah, sure."

"However, it doesn't understand. It probably thinks it's helping. Dean, we need to stop it before it takes any more lives."

"Well, I'm out," Kevin said out of nowhere. Up until then, he had been utterly silent in his default position of one hand to his laptop and the other clasped across his head.

"Me too. I'll stay here, take care of Kev." Meg and Kevin seemed to get on well enough, as Dean remembered from the time when the leviathans were still ruling America.

"Right, OK." Sam shut the book he had previously been consulting and placed on top of his pile. "Guess it's just the three of us."

Dean couldn't let Sam anywhere near angels at the moment. What if one of them could detect the grace inside him? He wasn't sure how this stuff even worked or how much power they even had at this point. Ezekiel had seemed to have some serious damage to his wings from what he had heard. But still, he was taking no chances.

"No, Sam. You stay behind. Watch Meg. I'll take care of this."

"Dean-"

"Really?" Meg got up and her chair scraped along the wooden floor. She put her hands on her hips and for a second, her sleeve slipped backwards so that he could see a bandage poking out. "You still think you need to watch me? I'm not a teenager, it's not like I'm going to phone my friends and have a house party while you're gone. And I don't need protecting. I've saved your asses enough times."

Dean stood up, too, and faced her, looking her in her all-too-innocent, brown eyes. "Meg, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He led her into a side cupboard. "You're really big on these private chats, aren't you?"

Dean shoved her against the wall. "What were the first words you ever spoke to me?" he yelled.

Meg tried to wriggle her arms from his grip. "Whoa, easy there. Do you even remember that?"

"Oh, I remember. The question is, do you?"

Meg stopped moving and her shoulders relaxed. "Fine. You coughed and I said 'dude, cover your mouth.' Then, dear Sam went on spied on me, I tried to kill you and your dad came to the rescue, you threw me out of a window, blah blah blah, are you happy now?"

Dean released her. The space in here was very cramped, and each wall was loaded with tightly packed shelves, each containing some kinds of ingredients which they hadn't figured out the uses for, in little jars. It was chilly too, like some kind of freezer, although not quite that cold, but this was clearly where foods were meant to be kept.

"So how are you back?"

" _I don't know."_

"Oh really? You don't know?"

"No, I don't! Is this an interrogation? Between you and the angel army-"

"Angel army? What angel army?"

"Cas has a bunch of angels somewhere in Illinois who are all taking neither side in this war."

"War?"

"God, you're slow. Apparently, the angels are fighting against each other since they have nothing better to do and this little group, Cas is trying to help. Look, Dean, I don't know how I got back. I woke up in a morgue, what else can I say?"

"And you have no clue, whatsoever? Nothing that could help?"

"I have these." She lowered the collar of her jacket and pushed her hair back, behind her ears so that Dean could have a better view. He could just see three of the markings which were already beginning to heal, but were still a bright red.

"What are those?"

"No idea. Not Latin or Greek for sure and I don't even think it's Enochian. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Dean hushed his voice as he heard the sounds from outside getting louder. Probably Sam trying to listen in on their conversation. "Look, we'll figure this out later. After we deal with this rit zien thing. But you, you let Sam stay behind and watch you."

"I'm not sure it's just about watching me anymore."

Dean took a step backwards. "What are you talking about?"

"I think there's more to it than that."

"No, there's not." He realized how unconvincing he sounded as he tried to deny it.

"Come on, Dean. I know your lying face. I've known you for ages. We're like family-no, not family. I can practically read your mind. It wouldn't have anything to do with the angels falling and Sam taking on those demon trials?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Castiel told me."

"Cas told y-of course he did. Right, well, when you need to know something, I tell you. And you don't need to be any part of this." He began to make his way to the door and reached out one hand for the handle when Meg poked him on the shoulder.

"So why didn't you tell him? That I was dead, I mean."

"It must have slipped my mind." He turned away from her.

"Yeah. You forgot about me. You drove off from that place the second you saw the demon bitch die like every other female who got involved with you. What was I, just a cause for some more man pain?"

"Do you want me to tell him now?"

"No. Do _not_ tell him," she said, very sternly.

"Why?"

"Because we can't have him going crazy right now. As hard as it might be for you to believe, he's the first person who's treated me well and actually given a damn about me since, well, probably since before Hell. And I don't want to lose him because he's pissed with you two, as usual. You know, you should give him some credit for all he's done for you!"

And she pushed him out of the way, knocking the door open and storming her way out.

_____

They marched, miles and miles for hours, days. The rocky ground made blisters form on their bare feet, scraping away the soles, tearing off the skin until the pain became even too much for the demons and they fell to the gutters. But Lilith kept walking with her white dress sweeping the pavement. She could afford to lose a few measly soldiers.

To passersby, they looked like a really long parade and some humans even joined in but all they would have to do to tell something just was not right was see the rotting skin of the leader and the two faced man beside her, and run screaming. When people tried to stop them, she would drag them close and transfer another one of those demons from her body to theirs and thus, gaining another. Another soldier. Another fully working demon to follow her.

She stood with Azazel and Alastair at her side. They wore a deadly grin. They were ready for the battle. For the beginning of the end. All of them were, every single last soldier in the army behind them and every one of the dark souls, swirling around inside her host.  Their sister was calling. The time was approaching. This was it. Their father would rise, just like they had before him. The Apocalypse would start, once again. And then they would be ready for their own little paradise.


	5. Questioning

Car journeys were slow. That was one thing he had discovered about being human. The United States of America was a big, in fact huge, country. Dean drove everywhere. Sam had said this was because he was afraid of flying at which Dean had shot him an annoyed look. But even to fly would be slow.

With wings, he could have travelled anywhere in a matter of seconds. And he had liked it that way. There was one benefit of driving though.

Castiel stared out of the passenger side window now. Dean was beside him and though he had not looked at him for a while, he expected that he would still be sitting completely upright in the driver's seat, silent with his eyes fixed intently on the stretching road ahead.

Trees and fields and highway sign posts and other vehicles, just like theirs, sped on past or disappeared into the distance. Dean was a fast driver. It was now that he could take the time to admire his father's creations that he had spent so many long years fighting for. It was true that these roads had been built by humans but who had built them? This was pure beauty. And he had come to a conclusion. Earth is wonderful.

They had been driving for a good few hours at this point and a sign appeared, letting them know that their destination was just fifteen kilometers away. This was the second time he had made this trip today and the sky was darkening. He wondered if the rit zien would still be there or if it had finished with the killings here and moved on to do what it thought was its duty, elsewhere. That would mean that this trip was a complete waste of time.

For a second, Cas thought that he saw a flash of red hair at the roadside. Why would someone be walking? There was no pavement. Surely, it was illegal. But the red hair was gone as soon as it was there.

And then, they came to a halt.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.

Cas looked up and turned his attention to the front window. There were cars in front of them. There were trucks on either side of them. They were completely stuck. Every few seconds, it would shift forwards but only a few meters. Dean was getting angrier. He slammed his foot against the brakes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Alright Cas. Change of plans. We're gonna turn off at the next exit and take a long way. But it will be quicker than this. Hopefully," he added in a quieter voice.

And they did manage to get to the next exit within ten minutes, by which point, the traffic still hadn't cleared.

"They could at least tell us what the problem is," he said as they swerved off to the right. They were the only ones on this small stretch of road. Which was a good thing for though it was a two way route, there was only the smallest gap for another car to fit through on the left. They were surrounded by forest and by this point, the sky had darkened to a deep blue.

"Dean!" Cas yelled suddenly and the shock caused him to violently turn the wheel towards the right. He hit the brakes right before they collided into the fence.

"What the Hell?"

"Someone is in the road."

And that was when he saw it. A motionless figure, lying face down, in the very middle of their pathway. Dean took a slow step towards them. If he had continued to drive, he surely would have hit them. It was a woman, he could now see. Her hair covered her face so he was unable to identify her age or anything else. She did not seem to be breathing and was dressed casually, in a flowery shirt and pants that came down a little past her knees. But her feet were the interesting things. They were bare, but it took him a second glance to figure that out as, at first, he had thought that she was wearing red socks. But instead, her feet were practically sliced open and bleeding cold, scarlet blood onto the gravel which was now stained. The new layer of blood was fresh, but some seemed to be dried and old like some of these injuries were from days ago. It must have been unbearable to survive the pain. The markings went up her legs.

Dean put two fingers to her throat. "No pulse. She's dead."

"What do you think-"

Cas didn't have time to finish his sentence because then, Dean was being strangled and thrown to the ground. The girl pinned him down and smiled with gritted teeth, more blood trickling from her gums.

"Winchester," she hissed. "What a pleasure." She revealed the truth then, the bloodshot irises and bright red veins vanished to be replaced by two black pits of nothingness.

The demon's fingertips grew tighter around his throat. He was trying to breathe, he needed air, but she was not allowing him any. Then, she was thrown off him. Castiel stood over her once again limp body, clutching an iron bar to his chest.

Dean picked himself up and found pleasure as his lungs tasted fresh, night air. The demon had left a stain of blood on his shirt and he rubbed at it so that it spread but grew fainter. "We'd better get her in the trunk. Take this back to Sam and see what he makes of it."

Cas looked confused and he tilted his head. "What about the rit zien?"

"More important things, Cas." And he lifted her up by the legs. She was heavy and her hair brushed against the ground. "A little help?"

______

"So Dean convinced you not to go ahead with the final trial? I would have liked to see how that dick coped with being human." Meg downed the final drop of beer from her bottle and threw back her head. It must have been really late by now. The library area of the bunker didn't have a clock so they did not really know, but Sam was already yawning and Kevin had left to sleep, claiming he had a headache and needed to wake up early tomorrow. Which just left the two of them.

"Yeah. And then Dean, he brought us back here and since then, we've been trying to hunt the angels and demons at the same time."

"Must be tough when you don't even get to leave this place. And what happened to Crowley?"

"Dean brought him to our dungeon. And he's giving us names-"

"What? Crowley's here? He's in the building?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And the two of you dumbos didn't even think to tell me? Why didn't you kill him?"

Meg's outline seemed a bit fuzzy and he shook his head, resting his bottle down on the table. He probably shouldn't have anymore. It was not like he felt a need to drink. He felt great, better than ever.

"Well, I said to Dean that we should have killed him. He thought it was a better idea to keep him locked up and give us names."

"He's the King of Hell! He could easily call some of his soldiers to come and rescue him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I hate him, but he has thousands of followers. And they must be going crazy without any leadership."

"Well, that's just it. They do have leadership. From Abaddon."

Meg stopped. She completely froze and looked Sam straight in the eye. "Abaddon? Knight of Hell?"

"I, uh, take it you know her."

"Not really. She was everything we all wished to be and the one thing we feared most. I heard the stories and, how should I put this, she was basically the demon version of a horror story. Except real. And then she disappeared sometime in the fifties and that was it. Is she the one killing all those people?"

"Sounds like her."

Meg took deep breaths. "So, to get this straight, you have the King of Hell in your basement, horror story come to life on your tail and you're not even allowed to leave?"

"I don't think Dean wants me to go anywhere. I mean, we did a few cases, but we barely had to leave the bunker for them. He keeps making excuses like you heard earlier and he also says that I'm recovering from the trials. I mean, I feel fine. But there are chunks of my memory just gone and, I don't know, it's weird. I just wish he would be honest with me."

Meg laughed at him."Doesn't this sound familiar? Us bitching about our family problems to each other over a bottle of beer?"

Sam remembered when he met Meg at a bus shelter, years ago. Back then, he had thought she was some nice hitchhiker girl who just seemed to understand him really well. But still, it had been nice.

"What was it like? Dying, I mean?"

"Like you need to ask me. You can count on your own experience, can't you?"

"No, but it's different for demons."

"You're off too. I got this from your brother earlier. Come on, Sammy. You don't trust me? Thought we were friends."

He was about to deny it. But she was right. In a weird way, they were friends.

"Before you, you know..." He let her finish the sentence.

"Before I died? What?"

"You said you loved Cas. You called him a unicorn. And I was wondering if you..."

"Wish you would finish your sentences. But honestly, I-"

"Sam!" Dean had kicked open the door. He carried something over his shoulder. As he emerged down the stairwell, it became visible. Cas was holding the other end. It was a sack. Or a body bag. And the lump that filled it seemed to be body sized.

"What happened?"

"Get some salt. And the demon blade!" he yelled and without asking questions, Sam rushed into the kitchen. "Meg. Go," he commanded her, but she stood firmly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He looked as though he were about to say something, but he just turned away from her. He dumped the sack in a chair and then lifted it again, this time, empty. A girl now sat there with her head hanging downwards. She was clearly unconscious.

Sam reappeared and stared in shock. "Dean, shouldn't we take her to the dungeon?"

"Crowley's in there."

"Yeah, couldn't have the two of them conspiring, could we?" By now, Meg had pretty much figured out what was going on.

Sam began to draw a Devil's trap, then, with chalk, right in the middle of that polished floor and she remembered the many times that they had trapped her in one.

"So who is she?" Sam asked as he completed it.

"Don't know. The highway to Idaho was blocked. Something was going on down there. We almost crashed into her on some side road. And she attacked me. Hang on a second. She's waking up."

And indeed she was. Her fingers, which had been bound to the arm rests, wiggled around, trying to escape their bindings, and then relaxed. Her eyes flickered open as she lifted her head upwards. Her eyes darted backwards and forwards until they came to rest on Meg. Her jaw dropped open.

Dean appeared to the left. "You want to tell me what you were doing in that road?" He held the knife in the air, threatening.

But she did not say a word. Instead, she just looked on at him, blankly. That was unusual. While most demons failed to answer questions, they would normally throw back a sarcastic retort.

"You can talk, I heard you earlier. So why don't you tell us, and we, uh, we let you go?"

A deep chuckle rolled out of her throat. "Let me go? Whatever I do, you're going to use that knife on me. Death's not a threat. But maybe I'll hear your questions. Just for the fun of it."

"What happened to your feet?" asked Sam.

"Didn't think the Winchesters cared about us demon _bitches'_ health. Why don't you tell me what she's doing here?" Without being able to move her hands, she instead gestured with her head towards Meg.

Dean ignored her. "You don't get to ask questions."

"I thought your legacy was shoot first, ask questions later."

Dean smirked, though it was clearly fake. "Times change."

"You can go ahead and kill me. I'll be fine. I'm not going to tell you anything."

"Is that the case? Sam."

Sam handed him the salt and Dean stepped into the circle. He forced the demon's mouth open and began to pour salt onto her tongue. But she did not make a sound. Some of the fine crystals fell to the floor but most of it was going straight down her throat but there was none of the usual screaming or cursing. She laughed. And then, the pack was empty.

Her laughing had evolved into cackling. Her chin was coated in a grizzly mix of salt and saliva. And then the blood began to rush out of her mouth.

Meg took a step backwards. It was the same as when she had woken up. Except, it was worse, there was far more of it and it was flowing outwards faster, creating a puddle.

"Dean, what's happening?" asked Sam, but Dean could not answer.  Because it was not just blood running from her mouth. There were all kinds of gore, where those organs and bones, then turning to mush and coming from that gaping mouth. That laughter was gone, but it was still bouncing around inside Meg's head as she watched what could have been her fate. Finally, the meatsuit was no longer a meatsuit. Now, what was just a sack of skin lay among the blood and innards, soaking them slowly up.

"Dude, what the Hell?" said Dean. And then he covered his mouth. "I think I'm gonna puke." He raced to the bathroom.

Meg bent down to look at what the demon girl had become.

"You think she's dead? The demon, I mean. Not the-the girl," Sam asked.

"Don't know. But she's not our problem anymore. I was right though. Something's going on here. And it's big."

_____

Malachi drew the blade through the fabric of the angel's shirt. "This is your final chance. Tell me where Castiel is!" he yelled and his voice echoed against the stone walls.

"I don't know anything." The angel then twisted his neck around in his chains. Why did he have to have such a weak, small vessel, a human child no less? His eye got Muriel, lying in the corner. She was worn out, also chained up though none of their attention was on her. The blonde hair of her own vessel was bloodstained and all thrown over to one side. She was scared. But not trying to show it.

"We haven't seen him. All we've heard is the same rumors you have. He fell, became human. He's working for Metatron."

The tip of Malachi's blade pointed towards the floor, shifting in the palm of his hand. He smiled. "I believe you, Adriel."

Adriel let out a sign of relief. "Thank you."

Malachi nodded towards his assistant - Theo had been his name. And that was when he rushed towards Muriel. Adriel let out a cry but it was already too late. Her grace was exploding from her mouth, her eyes, leaving just an empty vessel behind.

"No," he whispered. The body collapsed to the floor.

Theo wiped her blood on his trousers and moved back to stand next to his master. "It's your choice. Tell us or that will be your fate.

Adriel took a deep breath. "Alright. We met up with him in a town named Oregon. It's a small one - in Illinois. It's where the other angels on neither side are. Where you found me. He was human. And he had a demon with him."

Malachi took a step backwards. "A demon?"

"He called her Meg."

"And where are they now?"

"I don't know," he wailed. "They are gone. They have left the human motel. He had warded himself against angels. There is no hope of finding him."

"Thank you, Adriel. We have no use for you now." And then he plunged his angel sword into the boy's heart, sending Adriel spinning into darkness.

"Dispose of the body," he told Theo. "And put out a search for the demon known as Meg."

_____

Meg approached the dungeon, warily. Every time she felt a footstep was too loud, she would stop, look around, see if she had woken up one of those Winchesters, or Kevin. She should not have been down here. She should be in that bedroom they had allocated for her, even though there was no point in her even trying to sleep.

She shook her head and straightened her back. Yellow eyes. Yellow eyes. Yellow. Eyes. Yellow. What was wrong with her? She looked up again, though she was in a completely different location. Her hands were different. Stubbier, darker skin. No hair fell in her eyes. Her hair was short. A different vessel. But what was peculiar about those hands - they were stained with blood. So much blood. A mass murder scene. Yes. Bodies strewn around her, like she had seen so many times before, but these were her own doing, every single one of them, all killed in the most gruesome ways she could think of. Human. And she was laughing and licking blood from her lips. There were children among them.

And then a voice from behind her. "You are learning, daughter." So haunting. So detestable and loving at the same time. She turned. Yellow eyes.

And then she stumbled over. She was back in the bunker. Underground. Nearing the dungeon. It had just been a vision, just a memory. Strange, she was getting a lot of those now.

There was a mirror on the wall and for some reason, she found herself just staring at her appearance with curiosity. She saw the darkness swirling around beneath for a split second and then it melded with her vessel, leaving just that innocent, human face. It looked back at her. And then she thought she saw a shadow slide across the wall or at least the wall in the reflection. She spun around. No one there. _What is wrong with you, Meg?_

There were two bookshelves. Typical Winchesters, hiding something in a bookshelf. Sam had mentioned them, earlier. Leading the way to the dungeon - the dungeon where Crowley was locked away. Just steps away from her. She considered what would happen if she went in now. He would taunt her. She would taunt him back. And she would be glad. Because she was free. And he was not. Because she was a pet.

She cleared that thought from her mind. Should she do this? Could she kill him right now? Would she be able to? Could she be the demon out of all those working for Abaddon now, murdering their worst enemy?

"I know you're there. Whore. Come in and play."

That was when she ran back up the stairs.

_____

_Cas rubbed sleep from his eyes as he moved his way towards the fridge. His throat was dry. He needed water. Or something. His hand fumbled around in the dark, searching for the handle and the light came on, illuminating the empty chairs and large tables._

_"Hello Cas."_

_He dropped the glass water bottle and the glass shattered on the floor._

_"Anna. I'm dreaming again?"_

_She remained silent._

_"What are you doing? I don't understand the point in all of this."_

_"I like it here." She ran her fingertips along the desktop. He noticed now that she had a little nail polish on, although most had chipped away. It was a shade between red and brown, a little like her hair. It was funny. He didn't remember her wearing that. His dream mind must have conjured that up._

_She seated herself on a stool, turning on the little lamp that rested in front of her. He pulled out a chair to join her._

_"Do you remember all that Naomi put you through up in Heaven's prison?"_

_He remembered alright. But he didn't want to._

_"How she got into your head, how she worked her way into your mind and put a part of herself in there, controlling your every move?" There was a choke in Anna's throat, her words streamed out, rapidly._

_"But how-Naomi tortured you too?"_

_"She's in charge of all torture in Heaven. Or at least, she was. You may think what you had was bad. So do I. But others have had worse. Have you heard the tales of Camael or Isaac or Gadreel? All because they did so called wrongs. It's a fate worse than death if you ask me. How long you get depends on the crime. How long it takes for you to learn your lesson and become their little slave, their obedient killing machine."_

_"I'm not sure I understand. The angels wanted the Apocalypse to happen. And you tried to stop it. How did you escape from the prisons?"_

_"The same way you did. I gave into them."_

_"But what happened? Tell me what happened."_

_She turned her head, abruptly, as if she had heard something. Her form began to shimmer._

_"We don't have much time."_

_"I don't-"_

_"I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you everything now. And you will know soon. I have to go. But remember, there will always be free will."_

_______

He knew he was awake before his eyes opened. That soon the darkness surrounding him in all directions was going to fade away. And he would be back in the bunker. His sister would be gone. Only she was not his sister. Just a figment of his imagination, conjured up by his human mind. Still, seeing her, even in a dream, was comforting. At first he had been angry, but now he realized just how much he had missed her.

The duvet had come up over his feet, leaving them bare to the early morning air and he pulled them back for warmth again. His head had almost rolled off the pillow so that the tip of his nose was pressed against the mattress.

There was a clatter from downstairs, footsteps, running or walking with a fast pace. And some shouting. He stretched his arms out and his sleeves fell down past his elbows. Dean had lent him one of the many dressing gowns that this place had to offer, as well as a fresh shirt and a pair of shorts to change for the outfit he had been wearing for the last few weeks.

"How can it be gone?" Cas heard Dean ask, loudly, as he exited his room or at least the small storage room (they seemed to have many of those here) that they had pulled a mattress into for him.

He peered over the iron railings that served as a balcony. Sam and Dean were downstairs, Kevin too, for once not on a laptop or furiously rereading the contents of old books but standing and talking with the two older men. Meg was lounging in a corner. Seeing them trying to figure their heads around whatever this was, seemed to amuse her.

As he reached the ground floor, they all turned to stare at him.

He looked at them, quizzically. "What happened?"

"I can answer that." Meg got up from where she had been sitting until now. "Demon girl from last night. Those gory bits that Sam here collected of her for him to study them or whatever nerds like him do, well, they've vanished."

"Thank you, Meg," said Dean, though he clearly didn't need mean the thanks. "Vanished without a trace."

"They've  been stolen?"

"Well, that's just it. They weren't stolen."

Sam took over from his brother. "I locked them away last night and, get this, the boxes I put them in, the cupboard I put them in, completely untouched. But everything was clean. Like there was no blood, no sign that I had anything in their in the first place. The boxes were completely empty."

"And you think someone broke in?"

"We're, uh-" Sam scratched his forehead. "We're not-we don't know."

"Castiel." All of them spun around. A girl was facing them, covered in scratches. It took a moment for him to realize who she was.

"Sam, how long has she been standing there?"

"Dean, it's alright." Cas put out a hand and looked back over his shoulder. "She's one of the angels. Hannah, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"What's wrong, Hannah?"

"He took them," she stammered.

"Wait, back up a little. Who took who?" It was Dean's turn to ask a question.

"Malachi. He's looking for you. He took Adriel and Muriel. They may already be dead.

Castiel stared at her in awed silence. He turned around and began to make his way back towards the stairs. His pace grew quicker with each step like he had to get away from them as quickly as possible.

"Cas, Cas wait!" Sam called out to him.

"They died because of me Sam." His normally deep voice was gravelly and sore, with pain. "I'm responsible for too many lives."

"What is it with you guys and blaming yourself for everything? And crying. You always seem to be crying." But the expression Meg wore as she spoke was serious.

"So wait, who's Malachi?" Dean asked.

"The angels have been split into two. He is leading one of those sides."

"Great. Another winged douchebag  on our tails. And it's only-" He glanced down at his watch and squinted. "Eight thirty one in the morning. Awesome."

By now Cas had vanished. _Big help he was,_ Dean thought. _He's not the only one who's got problems._ Sam nodded.

"Right. So what's our mission at the moment? Angels or demons?"

"I don't know. I'd say both. Kevin, you carry on doing... whatever you're doing. Hannah, we'll ask you some more questions in a minute. If you could just leave us." Hannah promptly exited the room.

" Meg-"

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going." She vanished around a corner.

The others departed the room until it was just him and Sam alone. The tall man's eyes lit up a bright blue and his head seemed to straighten on his neck, along with his entire posture, making him seem even more giraffe-like if that were possible.

"Hello Dean."

"Yeah, hey Zeke. Listen, I-"

"What were you thinking, bringing Castiel here?"

"Well, what am I meant to do with him? Kick him out?"

"And the other angel, and the demon?"

"Look, I think we can trust them. Well, Hannah anyway. But we're keeping an eye on Meg. But they don't even know about you."

"But what if they find out? Bartholomew and Malachi are massing forces. Castiel will bring the angels down on us. He is in danger and if he is here, I am in danger. Who knows who they would let slip my location too?"

"No, but this is Cas. He vouched for you. The bunker is a safe place. They won't find him here."

"Dean, if they find him, I will be forced to leave Sam. Your brother could die if his healing is not completed."

Dean considered the possibilities for a moment. His little brother. Dead. Everything he loved. Gone.

"How much of what's going on are you hearing?"

"Bits and pieces. I am far more occupied in healing your brother, " he hissed.

"Oh, alright, take it easy. I'd like to speak to Sam now."

"Of course." Sam's shoulders relaxed, you could see his muscles moving into a more comfortable-a more 'Sam' position, under the plaid of his shirt.

"So what was it we had to be alone to talk about?" Sam asked as his neck leaned over slightly to one side.

"Oh, oh nothing. I was just gonna say that I'll help with Hannah, ask her a few more questions about what happened. You, uh, you deal with the vanishing bitch in a bag problem."

The two of them parted in separate directions. When Sam's footsteps had silenced, Dean took a deep breath. This thing with Ezekiel was getting weird. Someone else should know about it. But then, there would be more of a chance of him finding out. It was quite obvious that something was up with Sam-even Sam knew that and Ezekiel was right. Who knew who they could let it slip too.

But what Dean didn't know was that Meg was hiding pressed up against the wall, and she had been listening to every word of their conversation.

_____

What was going on? Whoever Dean had been talking to, it was definitely not Sam. It had been Sam's voice, sure. But she had only been able to make out a few words. And Dean had called him something. What had it been?

Sneaking around wasn't really like her. Neither was eavesdropping. She could figure out stuff on her own, without having to spy, or people, entranced by her, would just give information over to her. But this wasn't her.

For a minute, a thought came to her mind. What if this was some weird, reincarnation thing? What if whatever was giving those two idiots of brothers, their dumb luck, thought she deserved a second chance and she had been reborn. But that was crazy. Nothing like that existed. And what was it with those weird visions?

There was sobbing coming from Kevin's room. Meg could hear it quite clearly as she crept past a room-Kevin's, she thought. It made her stop in her tracks. She pressed her ear right up to the wood and yes, it was definitely sobbing. She turned the handle and it swung open. Kevin was sitting on the bed. He held a phone in his hand and he gazed at its screen.

"What's up, Kev?"

He jumped a little and relaxed when he saw it was her.

"You shouldn't be in here."

"Hey, I'm a guest in this crappy hotel as much as you. They don't even have room service."

He gave what would have been a chuckle if it had not been veiled by his tears."Yeah but I'm a prophet. I have to be alone, so I can work. I have to translate the tablet."

"And how's that going. It involves texting?"

"I'm not texting. I need a break."

"Come on. What's such a secret that you can't tell little old me?" She leaned in closer so she could just make out what was on the screen. It was Kevin, at least a photo of him. He was different though. He was smiling. And there was a woman beside him. She wore the same big grin as him and there was a little resemblance between them. Her hair was cut short, and she seemed youngish-under the age of fifty anyway, if you could call that young. Certainly younger than herself.

"Is she-"

"My mom." He finished the sentence for her.

She slowly nodded. "Alright. And?"

"We were staying together. It was to keep me safe. On Garth's boat. He was supposed to be looking after us but he disappeared. And then she did too. I didn't see her for weeks, but she was strong and I thought she'd be fine. And then Crowley came. He said he killed her. And I hated him."

"Well, that makes two of us. But listen-"

"There's more to the story."

"Oh?"

He sighed. "A couple of weeks ago, I was alone here. Sam and Dean had gone out on some sort of hunt. And he kept calling me to his dungeon and I was so angry with him. Anyway, I went. And he said she was still alive. I wasn't sure whether he had been lying at first or whether he was lying now.  But all that time I had been grieving for her and she could still be alive. And Dean wouldn't even let me go out and look for her."

"Congratulations. You're now an official member of the group. Everyone here seems to have family issues."

"You're not taking this seriously."

"No, of course I am." She waved her hand. "There's nothing Crowley can do while he's down in that dungeon, but be the slimy, annoying prick he always has been. He's vulnerable. I mean, at least I hope he is. Ain't been in there myself. And if your mom's still out there then screw Dean, you'll find her."

He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Thanks Meg. You know, you're not as mean as you make yourself out to be."

She shot him a side grin. "Try my best."


	6. Imagining

"Hello Moose, Kevin. Haven't seen from you in a while. How's Meg?"

Sam took a step backwards from the Devil's trap that encased the king of Hell. He gripped a sheet of paper, provided by Kevin and covered in scrawls. Kevin had managed to translate some of the tablet into this strange and extinct language,  Elamite, which (of course) none of them could read. The demon was their only hope now.

"How do you know Meg's here?"

"I thought you boys had a strict no demons policy. I suppose anything little fledgling Cas drags in is an exception. Didn't she tell you? She came to see me last night. And she ran away like the little whore that she is. You mind telling me how she's back?"

Sam ignored him. He put down one sheet of paper on the desk before him. Crowley used what little movement his hands had, bound up in their chains to pick it up and scan it with little enthusiasm.

"I've been politely asking for reading material for weeks and _this_ is what you bring me?" He slid it back across the table surface.

"Can you read Elamite or not?"

Crowley folded his arms. "It's by no means my favorite of the ancient tongues, but yes."

"So will you help us read it?" asked Kevin

"Why on earth would I?"

"Because I was there that night," Sam answered. "I saw what humanity did to you. Like it or not, there's still a part of you that's not a douche."

Crowley stared him down, but nodded. "Give it to me."

Sam handed another of Kevin's translations over. Crowley once again picked it up but this time, scrunched it into a ball and threw it in Sam's face faster than you could say ‘you’re a goddamn child, Crowley’.

"Alright." Sam turned to look at Kevin. "Back to plan B, I guess." He shook his head.

"Which is?" Crowley called from behind his back.

"Give you up to Abaddon." There was a moment of silence. In fact, it was too silent. Sam turned to see a look of pure horror on Crowley's face. He quickly disguised it, easing back into his signature slightly-amused-by-everything look.

"Fine. I'll translate that Elamite for you. I only ask for one thing in return."

"You think we'd give anything to you, Crowley?"

"Good luck translating your tablet then. All I want is a short, telephone call.”

Sam scoffed. "You want to call someone? Who?"

"Abaddon."

"Sam, no!" shouted Kevin. "You want to let Crowley communicate with Abaddon? It would be a demonic team up."

Sam lowered his voice. "I know we can't trust him. But he's our only hope. And you saw his face. He hates her. Not even that. He's more scared of her than we are. He's not going to let us give him in to her, let alone turn himself in. I don't trust him either."

"Having a nice chat, you two?"

Sam looked over his shoulder. "You get your phone call when you can prove you can read this. Now what are these?"

Crowley looked over what he had been given with interest.

"Ingredients."

"More specific."

"Ingredients for a spell. Heart of a nephilim, Cupid's bow, grace of an angel."

"And the rest of them?"

"We had a deal. I get my phone call. And then I translate the rest for you. Now who's going to be a dear and open up a vein?"

Sam left the room then. There were a few seconds where Kevin was alone, staring back at Crowley and his malicious grin and provoking eyes. He gave no comments, made no jokes. Had this man, this _demon_ actually killed his mother? Sam reappeared carrying a bowl and some kind of kit. He unrolled it on the desk in front of Crowley, revealing a needle which he pressed against his arm.

"Not you Moose. His." He nodded towards Kevin.

"What difference does it make?"

"I've had yours."

"No way!" Kevin yelled. "I'm not giving blood to anyone who's murdered my mother!"

Crowley grinned. "It's all I want and then I'll translate your precious little tablet. Come on, don't want to share a little blood with a friend?"

Kevin glared at him, disgusted with the very idea they could be friends, did Crowley even have friends? He snatched the needle from Sam and dug it into his skin. It bit into a vein and he stopped. It hurt. Not badly. Just enough pain that he could cope. He had been through worse after all. With one last curious look at the needle indenting his skin, he squeezed the syringe into the bowl and watched his own blood, a dark red. One drop, two drops.

Crowley began to chant in Latin.  The blood in the bowl spat and hissed from within. "This is Crowley," he said, sliding back into to English. He paused, waiting for an answer.  "Crowley," he repeated. "Your _King_! If you don't connect me to Abaddon, I will be forced to-Oh." He looked up. "I've been placed on hold."

"How long does it take?"

"Give it a moment."

Kevin looked angrily at him. "You got your call, Crowley."

"Yeah it's time," said Sam.

It's time when I bloody well say it's time." He turned his attention downwards. "Hello Abaddon."

Neither Sam nor Kevin could hear the Queen speaking with her velvet, melodic voice. Which meant this call was half private.

"What have you done?"

"Oh, just having a little fun down here. Now I'm Queen. I have to say, your ex-subjects don't like you very much. They're relieved to see you gone."

"You know what I mean. How did you do it, it's not possible."

"You should speak to me with some respect. The days of Crowley are done. You aren't a ruler. You never really were. And now it's time for you to get what you deserve. The cavalry are coming for you. And I am going to accomplish what you never could."

She fell silent, the atmosphere was so tense it could probably make Cas uncomfortable. The blood in the bowl had stopped swirling. It was over.

"Alright," Sam said. "You've had your call. It's time to hold up your end of the bargain." He took the bowl from him, replacing it with more paper. It was a curious, the exchange he had heard. The demon, he had sounded desperate. Sure Abaddon was scary, Sam had met her four times in person and he knew just how intimidating she was. But that was not the point. He knew something was up and they should ask Crowley just what he had been referring to but he would lie or ask for more favors. They couldn’t rely on him for everything, he didn’t even want to rely on him _at all_.

"Obtain the ingredients. Heart, bow, grace, blah blah blah. Mix until the smoke shall rise from the ashes, casting the angels from Heaven, blah blah-" He stopped at the bottom of the page. "Oh. It's irreversible."

_____

Sometimes he liked to shut his eyes. He liked to imagine what life would have been like. Not if Mary Winchester, his mother had lived, if Azazel had never come into baby Sam's nursery and they had lived normally. He was way over that now. But just if things had stayed the way they were nine, ten years ago, when they were hunting with their dad with just Baby and six bucks to his name. Back then it had been all the ghosts and ghouls and wendigos in the book, and the most important thing they had going on was their personal vendetta against old yellow eyes. Things had been so simple then. And to admit it, he missed that. He missed life before there were any angels or demons and when they could sort any problem with in three days instead of months with nothing but dead ends and broken skin instead of broken _everything_.

Dean blinked away his daydream and found himself gazing at a bottle of beer before him. The lamp behind it glowed mystically, casting drops of sunshine  through the glass. Sam had left it there the night before. There was still just a little of the drink lying still at the bottom and he was tempted. He turned back to look at the suited angel opposite him.

"So this Malachi, how many does he have in his army?"

"I am not sure," she replied. "I did not see much of the attack. They were fast. From what I have heard, it may be hundreds."

"Alright, well that's just awesome. They have hundreds and there are, how many in your group?"

Her eyes focused on a point behind him and she nodded her head and mouthed words. She was counting. "Now that two of us are gone, eight remain."

Dean began to fold up the notes which he had been making until that point. Hannah had not seemed to have known much. She was uninformed on this or some secrets were being very well kept.

"We do not want a war," she assured him. "We have had too much of that in the last few years."

Dean knew whose fault that was. He looked down at the wooden floor but she continued.

"We will fight if we can but it will not be enough."

"Yeah I know." He did not want to have to force them to fight anyway. Judging from this Hannah, none of them were particularly capable of it. "Well you, you go back to the other angels. Let them know the situation and, you said you're nearby?"

"Yes. What humans would call nearby, anyway. Ten minutes from here on foot. We tried to stay as close to Castiel as we could."

"Well uh that's great. So you go back to them and come to us if there are more problems."

Hannah stood up. And then it dawned on Dean.

"Wait a second. How'd you find us? I mean the Men of Letters took some serious precautions. This place is more warded than anywhere I've seen before."

"We do not know what it is," she said. "But there is a signal, a path, all over the world. Everywhere we go, we can feel it."

"And?"

"And it leads here. There's something here and someone powerful wants it. Badly." She vanished. Dean put his sweaty forehead in his hands and made a mental note to put more wardings up. Maybe he could get Kevin to work on that in his spare time. Not that they were giving him much spare time. Poor kid, he thought. He was still fixated on finding his mom, If only they could. Dean had liked the her.

It was then that he felt his phone began to buzz within his pocket.

"Hello."

"Dean, it's Jody Mills."

"Jody, how're you doing?" He leaned back in his chair leisurely and stretched out his arms, balancing the phone between his ear  and shoulder.

"Think I have a case for you boys."

"The thing is, we're not really doing any cases at the moment. We have a bit of a pr-"

"Trust me, this one you'll want."

"OK. I'm all ears."

He heard a little static, crackly and whiny, obviously as she was re-adjusting herself. The background noise dimmed down. And then the sheriff was speaking to him again.

"I'm not sure I can say over the phone. Is there somewhere we can talk, more privately?"

"What? What's the matter?"

"Someone could be listening."

"Who?"

"I'm emailing you an address. Meet me there."

_____

"So what did she say?"

"I don't know Sammy. She said she couldn't say over the phone."

"How do we know this isn't some trap. Some demon impersonating her."

"Look at my brother. Always asking the big questions. She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. She knows how to hunt and she has all the right charms." He could feel Sam's eyes piercing holes into his skin, even without turning his head. "Look, maybe it is a trap but we're prepared. And hey, it could just be a big waste of time but who cares. We wasted a whole year on those stupid demon trials and what good did they do?"

"Still don't see why I have to come," said Meg from the back seat. "I don't even know this woman and won't seeing a demon kind of creep her out?"

"If it makes you feel better, Crowley tried to kill her so she's pretty high on the 'we hate Crowley list', too."

"Yeah and plus, Sam said you were sneaking around last night."

"I was not sneaking around," she hissed. "Last time I checked, it was a free country but you won't even let me look around the place where I'm staying."

"Yeah well what happens if we leave you alone with Crowley? He's our only source of information and you-"

"So you left the kid with him? The kid who got his mom killed by that dick? As far as I can see, that doesn't seem like the most terrific plan in the world. But then, none of your ideas are."

"You were the one who said you didn't like being left behind."

"No, I said I didn't like being left behind with someone to watch me."

"I think Meg's right," Cas said from her side.

"Right. So another typical road trip for 'Team Going To Hell.'" Dean spoke out of nowhere, interrupting the three of them. "Looks like we're here."

The impala pulled to a halt beside a woman with cropped brown hair, kicking leather boots in a puddle. She raised her head as Dean opened the door.

She drew Sam in for an awkward hug due to the height difference, first, and then Dean too. Dean looked at the suburban style home behind her. "New place?"

"No. I get sent down here for a few jobs every now and then. Thought it would be better if I had somewhere to stay so I rented out the building after my husband-" she paused in the middle of her sentence. She turned to Castiel and Meg. "Who are they?"

"Just some friends," Sam replied. "So what was it you needed to tell us?"

"Uh yeah. Not outside." She ushered them towards the front door, quickly. Everything seemed surprisingly normal, like it had been in her old house, where she had lived with her family. The cream-colored paint on the front door was beginning to peel, Dean could feel it beneath his skin as he pressed his palm on the frame. It was number 87 on the street but the 7 which had been nailed onto the wooden surface, was hanging slightly lopsided. She unlocked it, glancing around uneasily as she did so, so that it took two or three tries to finally get it open. She took them into a sitting room. A fluffy couch and two armchairs, sat in a semi-circle, facing a flatscreen TV.

"Make yourselves at home."

She handed around beers. Cas squinted at his before unscrewing the lid and downing a huge gulp, causing him to flop backwards and a little of the drink to spill on her sofa. Jody did not seem to notice.

"It started 'bout a week back. Little town I cover outside Sioux Falls. Couple of disappearances, nothing too serious but my department asked me to go round there and check it out. But the roads, all the highways, blocked for miles. You'd be lucky to get out of the state after a week."

"We all knew that traffic was a problem but you didn't need to speak to us privately about that. Do you want us to go stab some stop signs?" said Dean, laughing at his own joke.

Jody did not seem to have noticed his comedic genius though.

"Towns have been evacuated of just kept away from us. No one can go in or out so I made a few phone calls, no one had half an idea what the hell was going on. Checked out some websites and something was being covered up pretty well. Turns out that the FBI was on this so obviously not nothing."

Sam nodded. "Obviously."

"And dead bodies. Everywhere. All over the roads. Died of starvation, dehydration, blood loss, some seemed to have been dead for days. I had a talk with some of the FBI and not really FBI. Hunters. And there's only one reason why hunters would be there."

"Something supernatural," Sam said, automatically.

"So what did you do?"

"Told them I was a hunter. It's partly true. They did all the usual tests." She rolled her sleeve up and a small line was visible across the skin of her wrist. "Silver knife, holy water. I was safe. And we're working together on the case. Three of them and me. They taught me some tricks. You see that carpet there?"

Indeed there was a carpet beneath their feet and stretching underneath all of the furniture in the room, coming to an end close to the walls. It wasn't nice, experts on carpets would say so, not that any of them were experts but it was just plain in a bright shade of red that failed to compliment the room, second hand, stained and with clumps of fabric all stuck together, leaving it looking quite uneven. It had most likely just been chosen for the size.

"Devil's trap. Any demons who make it into my house, past the security system are goners."

"Dammit," Meg muttered and this was the first word she had spoken since she arrived. She put her bottle on the coffee table in front of her.

"What's the problem?"

"Would someone do the pleasure of letting me out?"

_____

"You brought a demon with you? To my house?" Jody stood with her arms folded, on the front steps, leading up to the door. Her eyes looked up at Dean and she was angry, and boy was she scary, but she was also scared, and that was the only thing that kept the boys from starting a game of synchronised pissing . And of course she was scared, she had almost died at the hands of one of these things.

"I know," Sam said. "We should have told you. You should have been the first person to know."

"She's friendly, sort of," Dean continued. "We bonded over the fact that she wants to take down Crowley."

Jody laughed. "Well that's a relief. Last time I ever thought about going on a blind date. The guy in there, he a demon too?"

"No, he's human. Well, now he is, anyway."

"Yeah? And what was he before?"

Dean took a deep breath. "An angel."

"An angel? That's a thing?"

"Too many things are things."

Her lips turned up into a smile. She wiped her eye with one finger, topped with a bitten down and worn nail. "Thought he seemed a little weird anyway. I'm not even surprised at these things anymore. How long have I known you, now? Three years? Four? Still so much I don't know. I pray for you boys. Just wish you could get the ending Bobby deserved."

"Yeah. We do too," said Dean and he drew his jacket around himself with his hands, his fingers too shaky to actually button it up.

"Dean found one of those bodies in the road."

"I had to take a shortcut to get off the highway. We had a case and we weren't getting there. The woman was dead but a demon was still inside. Meg, the demon, she died, a couple of months ago now. She was at the hands of Crowley and not us lucky as you were. And she's back and we think it's something to do with these bodies and all these towns being blocked off."

"You sound like you've got yourselves mixed up in something real bad. I called the other hunters. They said they'll be here by tomorrow morning. You mind waiting? I've got a guest room."

"Yeah, that would be great."

"You boys mind sharing? I could pull some spare mattresses into the garage, for the other two. Provided an angel-sorry not angel, and a demon can get on."

"Believe me, they actually get on better than most of us. I'm OK in the same room as Sam. We used to share all the time as kids, didn't we, eh Sammy?"

"Great. 'Cause it's got a double bed."

_____

"Don't see why Sam and Dean get the nice indoors room while we're stuck out here, freezing our asses off." Meg sat cross-legged against a work table and picked a chainsaw up from behind her which she admired, running her fingers down the serrated edge. Her finger caught on it and she felt a drop of blood trickled down her thumb and she raised it to her mouth. It hurt a little but it was nice to know she could still feel that.

"I thought that you didn't feel the cold." Castiel was sitting on his mattress. He undid his shoelaces and watched her, with his special birdlike and childish curious observation face, fascinated.

"It's an expression. Their friend seems alright. For a hunter, anyway."

He nodded and continued, kicking one sneaker to the ground and then moving on to the other.

"Well it's too quiet here for me. We gonna talk about something? What about those dreams? You still having those?"

"What dreams?" He froze and stared straight at her.

"Don't pretend you don't have them. I can here you mumbling a mile away. Not sure that's exactly normal."

"They are just dreams," he assured her.

"Yeah, except you don't dream. You wouldn't be the only one having them."

"You don't dream."

"Well not exactly dreams. Visions, flashbacks to my time when I was, y'know, all bad. OK, so you're not gonna answer that question. Answer me this. What do you think of being human? I mean, if you couldn't get your grace back, would you be happy staying one of us-I mean one of them?" As she asked him, she quickly corrected herself.

He finished with his other shoe and now barefoot, rolled flat onto the mattress so that she could no longer see his face. "They are interesting, humans, beautiful. I understand why my father loved them so much."

"I sense a 'but' coming."

"But as an angel, I was so much more. I was protecting them. I did not want to be a leader. I just wanted to be an angel."

"And how do you feel now?"

"I am not sure."

"I'm not the greatest person to talk to about feelings." She stood up as she spoke and made her way over to him. "In fact, us demons, we're not meant to feel." But that doesn't mean we can't, she added, mentally. "Maybe we feel exhilaration after slaughtering a couple of humans. Maybe you should go talk to Sammy about this or someone who gives more of a damn than me." But the tone she used on him sounded too soft and breathy for the content of her words.

"Are you scared? About this angel war?" she then asked him. She was trying to change to subject.

"No."

"You aren't scared they're gonna kill you?"

She did not get an answer out of him. Because at that moment, he sat up. And he kissed her. It was lightly, warm and fleeting across her cheek and instinctual, her arm tensed, finding its way towards his leg. And then she stopped. She wanted to return it, at least, that was what she thought it was, but she could not, not right now. She dragged herself away from him.

"Night Clarence." She lay down on her own mattress. It had been nice for Sam and Dean's friend Jody (or whatever her name was) to bring it for her. She had seemed a little uncomfortable at the idea of a demon taking refuge in her house, no wonder she had kept her in the garage. But still, there had been something warm and loving about her, along with that hard hunter shell.

Now what would she do? Stay awake? Have more of those stupid visions? At least she was there to keep guard.

She suddenly jolted upwards from her curled up position. A thunder crash outside. Like a cheesy horror movie effect, she thought to herself. And then she heard a rustle in the bushes outside. Normally this would be nothing. She would barely be able to hear it, let alone think it was something important. But this was loud. Someone was in the bushes. And they were coming towards her. She climbed from the mattress, trying to make as little noise as possible. Cas was facing away from her, at the cracked wall. He was asleep, she could tell as the noises did not seem to have bothered him at all. She felt a moment of jealously that his mind could just shut down that easily, simply from closing his eyes.

Her hand reached across the desktop as she found the chainsaw and something else, cold  and heavy in her hand. She drew out the shape. A hammer. Useful enough if someone was attacking her. Her head spun sideways as she heard the shutters flapping open and closed. There was no wind in here.

And then the door slammed shut. Someone was standing behind her.

"So good to see you again. Daughter."


	7. Feeling

She spun around, weapons in hand.

"You have no idea how far I've travelled to see you again. The rogue demon with the stolen name. There are many some legends about you. You made quite a name for yourself while I was gone." Then the figure stepped into the spotlight. He faced her side-on. And she knew that face. Not just the average human face but the thing below as well. The horrible, twisted thing below. And those yellow eyes.

"Azazel. But you're dead. Dean killed you!"

"And you were dead too. Thought you could escape from me forever did ya? What happened to the respect you used to show me, eh?"

She found herself unable to move, her arms locked in position, spread out horizontally, it was suffocating. And then her palms opened and her two weapons fell to the concrete below.

"Do you remember how loyal you were? You loved me. You feared me. You were my favorite daughter. I'm gone a few years and you're working with humans."

"She's been a very naughty girl," another voice sang.

Meg's eyes darted around the room, searching for its source. And Azazel laughed at her. "You think that I'm the only one who's back. I'm flattered." He stood just inches from her and she blocked the smell the rotting odor of warm, damp breath.

"You've met my friend before, Alastair." His head turned and she would have let out a gasp if she could move. Because half of his face was another man, almost the opposite of Azazel's vessel, thin and bearded and bloodstained. The two contrasting human half-masks, split equally down the middle, between the two different eyes and over the nose. One eye was yellow and the other, white.

"Of course you know him. You were his apprentice."

"Do you remember the time your humanity first started to fade away?" Alastair asked her."As I handed you my knife and you dug it into that screaming soul on the rack. He was begging you for mercy but you could not let him have it. You wanted to change yourself. You wanted to be that hideous new creature. Because you were scared of what you had done. You were an excellent student. Fantastic knife work." He pressed a finger and this was one of Alastair's fingers, not Azazel's, against her forehead. It was sharp, overgrown and the nail dug into her skin. A trickle of blood ran from the wound.

"Enough Alastair." Azazel pressed his lips onto the cut and she felt that little rush, that a hint of one from all those times when he had told her he was proud of her.

"I think she needs to be punished," Alastair whispered.

"I agree," said Azazel. "What do you say, we begin?"

_____

"Dude, quit snoring." Sam shoved his pillow into Dean's face so that his brother began to stir and blinked his eyes open, sleepily.

"Come on Sammy, I don't snore," he yawned.

"Don't try and hide it Dean. I heard you. We've been sharing rooms since I was born."

"At least we didn't have to share beds then. It would be easier to sleep peacefully if you didn't keep frickin' tossing and turning. Oh screw it. I'm going on the floor." He dragged his pillow from underneath Sam's hair which had all bundled together and crept across the sheet.

"I miss it in the bunker. Least we get our own rooms there." The floor creaked as he spread himself out. "Hey Sam, you think it's safe leaving Kevin alone back there? I mean remember what happened the last time he did that. He totally flipped."

"He knows to stay away from Crowley." Sam pulled the curtain beside him, glancing out of the window.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know. Just seems a little quiet out there, don't you think?"

"Well we are inside."

"Just go with me on this." Sam looked back over his shoulder. "The garage door is open."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe Cas wants to catch a cold." They looked at each other for a moment and then both got up and sprinted out of the room, pushing each other out of the way as they went.

____

"Every day, so many souls.  Dear Meg, you were such a vicious torturer, almost as good as me. Could make those sinners confess to everything. Made Hell fit the deal. And you didn't even seem to care as they were wheeled away. You were ruthless. Did everything I told you. You know it was such a shame when I had to see you go, we would have accomplished such great things together. But your father needed you, didn't he?.

Alastair traced his knife down her cheek, carving his horribly beautiful pattern on her face. And she struggled with every frozen muscle in her body, for a yell, to punch one of them in the face, to make a grab for the knife, at least cutting apart this grotesque vessel that they seemed to share, but all she could do was remain bound to the work table. She knew what he was doing. He was recreating Hell's torture, her torture, that she had endured so many centuries ago. And it was working. For she was remembering, the slicing, the twisting, the contorting her soul into something dark and hungry. Making her lose herself. Shattering her and rebuilding her slowly into a whole new anima. And while he repeated this on her, as the memories dawned on her once again, like a bucket of water had been poured over her, Azazel spoke to her slowly in his calming, cruel voice.

"We've been marching for days” he sang  

“Not for you though, honey, you don't think we'd take all our time, looking for you? oh no. We have far bigger things on our minds than _you_. Finding you was just...a detour, _extra credit._ "

She tried to turn her gaze from the two merged faces, looking down at her, making her eyes move to the corner where Castiel slept.

"Don't think that your little angel is going to come running to your rescue. No, he won't awake until morning. Trust me. Do you remember our goal?"

She tried to flinch as the metal tore into the flesh of her neck. It all felt so familiar, this torture. From Hell probably.

"No? We were going to raise our father. Your father, my father, the one who created us, all of us. We were going to raise Hell and we were going to the saviours of our kind. Do you remember your brothers and sisters?  Amy, Tom, Moloch, Cynthia, Dagon, to name a few. Shame, none of them were survivors like you. You outlived them all. They used to make fun of you, you were the young one, non-experienced. But turned out, you were stronger. You just kept coming back again and again and again and again and and and _again_." punctuating his words with a little stab each time.

"Seems the bitch wants to say something," Alastair taunted.

"Of course." Azazel took his only hand and swept it across her mouth. "I never thought you were the type for screaming."

She coughed and wheezed, taking in air as if she were drowning. She wished she could move her neck too, pull herself upwards and bite into his wrist or the first limb she could find, rip his damn until she drew blood, until he knew what it felt like to feel pain. But her options were restricted now.

"You know it would be nice if you could tell me why we're all back in the first place," she said and she was trying to squeeze that one sentence out, free of any sign that she was in pain.

"Ah but what would be the fun in that? Watching you all run around like characters on a kids' TV show, trying to solve the mystery."

"This is all some game? You know what, I don't want to be part of it any longer."

"You've grown weak while I've been gone. Under the care of our enemies. How many times have you bled for them, hmm? And what do they really think of you? I've heard how you grew fond of that angel. Seems like your loyalties have changed while I was away."

"It's hard to stay loyal to someone who's dead."

He chuckled. "Why do you do it?"

"Why do I do what?"

"Why do you hide behind that name, that face? Maybe you're jealous of that girl, that Meg Masters who had her perfect life. Back in the day, you could never settle on what to call yourself. You were always changing, the names of your vessels. But you were never yourself. Maybe you can't remember your old life. But what could make you possibly want to forget?"

"Yeah, I have a thing for living in the moment."

"You don't know who you were though." As one demon spoke, the other sliced down her chest. "Maybe you should take a sneak peek back. Maybe then, things would become so much clearer." He lay the back of his hand against her forehead like a parent would t check a child's temperature. Except she was no child and he certainly was not seeing if her head felt a little too hot.

And then she saw images. There was  knife in her hand, there was a woman with a cunning grin, she was running in the rain, there was a ring of fire, yellow eyes. And a girl.

And then there was a cry. "Meg!"

She felt the hand being drawn away as the Azazel/Alastair creature turned. Sam and Dean were standing in the doorway, barefoot and dressed for sleeping which in Dean's case, meant no shirt. That was a picture she was never going to forget.

The few seconds that she had were enough. Breaking free from her corpse-still position, she brought her legs, kicking into the ruined spine of this monster, knocking it to the floor. A blade, an angel blade was in Sam's hand and seeing his chance, he rushed forwards, stabbing down. But it was too late. Because Azazel and Alastair were gone. And the three of them were alone in the garage with only Cas snoring in the background.

_____

"Wow, you two really messed up that time." The trio, the two brothers and the demon were sat around the spot where Alastair and Azazel had vanished from. And they all knew just how risky that was. They could reappear at any second. But somehow, all three of them knew they wouldn't.

"We just saved you."

"Yeah and made the only real lead we have on this case go poof. Nice going there. Besides, I could easily have squeezed my way out of there." Meg shrugged.

"Oh really?" asked Sam, raising his eyebrows. "How?"

"I would have figured something that. 'Cause as hard as it is for you to realize, I've known both of those douchebags far longer than either of you."

"It just doesn't make sense. So there's three demons back?"

"I think it's more than three. I mean, Azazel laughed when I asked why it was just us."

"So it could be more than just two of the sons of bitches who screwed with our family. Awesome. So we've got Azazel and Alastair and who else? Lilith?"

Meg shrugged. "Probably."

"But what could have that much power? And what happened to them. I mean it seemed like the two demons were trapped in their last meatsuits but they'd been sort of..." He struggled to find the right word. "Melted together."

"This has black magic written all over it," Dean commented. "Frickin' witches!"

"I'm not sure if it's witches. What would they want with demons? Only reward they would get would be being dragged off to Hell a couple of centuries early. And I thought witches were strictly Latin. Those markings on Meg's neck, those a definitely not Latin."

"Well you're the book nerd of the group. Any ideas?"

Sam shook his head. And then he stopped. "Yeah, one actually."

"Great, what?"

"Elamite."

"Excuse me?"

"It's uh, it's an ancient language. Kevin managed to translate the angel tablet into it and Crowley could read it so we got him to translate that."

"Sam, I hate to tell you this but I know just as many of the ancient languages as Crowley, and this ain't Elamite."

"No, you don't understand. While we were searching, we found these books on the dead languages. So surely if this is one of them, we'll be able to find it in there."

"OK well I'm guessing you're volunteering to do the research there, Sam." Meg's hand found her face and as she pulled her fingers away again, they were stained a dark red. "Anyone have a bandaid?"

_____

Jody's hunter friends kept to their word.

Sam and Dean found themselves unable to get back to sleep and it was alright, they were used to only a couple of hours in bed. Normally Dean would spend the entire night driving before being able to collapse into his hard, motel room bed. Meg stayed with them too. And she was observing Sam, always watching him for signs that something might be different. And yet, she saw nothing.

So she drummed her fingertips gently on the glass coffee table and recapped the events that had just taken place. Azazel coming, all the things he had said, what he had shown her. He had seemed dead set on her remembering and he had shown her things. She tried to grasp onto what they had been in the back of her mind but once again, they were fading. And there was reason for that.

While they sat, the night carried on in its silence outside. Of course it wasn't completely silent. There were none of the sounds of people strolling by and laughing or cars as they zoomed down the street. But trees swayed from side to side in the breeze. And as it was by now the early hours of the morning, a bird had begun to sing.

Eventually Jody came downstairs. The noise had been keeping her up, she supposed, not that they were making much noise at all. The two boys just stared at each other, trying to make polite conversation occasionally, about what television shows they actually had time to watch in between hunts and the few books both of them had read. It was a very short list.

You could almost hear their minds ticking and whirring as they thought, as they considered the situation. And then two completely plain slippers in a very pale shade of blue, appeared at the bottom of the stairs, followed by Jody's sullen face.

"What're you boys doin' up?" She read their expressions. "Something the matter?"

And they let her know of the situation, calmly, slowly. Demons had broken into her house. Her house with floor and a few ceilings covered in devil's traps, salt lining the window sills. To any normal person visiting, she would look like a complete weirdo. And these one or two - however you chose to look at it - demons had managed to break in.

She got up once they had finished. "And you got rid of them? They still lurking around somewhere?"

"Uh..." Sam trailed off, unsure what exactly he was supposed to say. "Well they vanished and, I don't know, they could still be around."

Jody nodded. "Well I just got a message from Brandon and Nat. They're on their way. Should be here in 'bout half an hour. I'm gonna make some coffee. Anyone want some?"

This was freaking her out, surely. But she was taking it well.

At around seven thirty, a car pulled up outside. This wasn't the first car they had heard drive down their street. Since four, they had started hearing car motors joining the singing of the birds and the swishing of the grass and every time they had heard one of these, Jody's back had tensed, maybe in case it was her friends arriving early or maybe she suspected it was someone else. But this was them.

The doorbell chimed and Jody rushed over to answer, returning with two figures behind her. Dean sipped at his coffee, only half tasting it as it scorched his tongue. He would die for a beer right now. Meg had left the room, maybe in case these new hunters brought out their weapons before they were given an explanation.

"Boys, this is Brandon and Nat Cunning." She stepped aside and a man entered first, nodding polite greetings to each of them. He was old. Not extremely old, late fifties or possibly even his sixties with a balding head and hair already almost completely gray. His face was pink like he was constantly out of breath and a pair of glasses rested on a sharp nose.

Behind Brandon came Nat. Except Nat wasn't a man. She was a woman. Or a girl, depending on how you chose to look at it. She was in her twenties, early or mid though she could easily be mistaken for a teenager. Beige colored skin and hair the color of milk chocolate which was plaited all the way around her head and then tied in a half ponytail, half bun. Her eyes were a stunning shade of gray and she had a sharp nose - Brandon's nose. There were some similarities between them. They must be related somehow. The nose framed little rose bud lips which were turned lightly upwards. She had an odd choice of clothing, dungarees and striped socks that came up to her knees, along with running boots and a gun tucked into her belt.

"I'm gonna talk to Brandon. You stay with Nat, alright?"

They exited to the other room.

Dean put his coffee cup down on the table and looked at Nat. "So, Nat, what's that short for?"

"Natasha." Her accent was Texan. You could tell simply from that one word.

"And how long have you been hunting for?"

"Since I was ten I think. No need to ask you, Dean Winchester."

"How do you know who I am?"

She beckoned him closer and then in a hushed voice, said: "I'm kinda psychic. And also, everyone who knows anything knows who you are. Man who saved the world. Kinda disappointing getting to see the real thing."

"Tell me this, Nat," Dean said, ignoring her slightly offensive comment even though it had slightly offended him. "You ever faced a demon before?"

"Dozens of times. The Apocalypse and all that. Nowhere near as many as you though. But I know enough to know that the hot as hellfire girl you're hiding in the other room is one of them."

"W-wait, the psychic thing, that wasn't a joke?" Sam queried.

Nat chuckled. "Dad says I'm naturally sensitive, ever since I was a kid. I could do weird stuff. Most people would say it was a coincidence or something. Like, I would hear some random sentence in my head for no real reason and two seconds later, someone would say it. Or I think of a song and it comes on the radio. And I'm not talking popular songs that they just play on repeat on those stations. My mom had a thing for classical music and these songs could be things I'd never heard before. It was like I could see a few seconds into the future. I never really found it useful. But I told a coupla' friends of mine and just like with you two, they thought it was a joke. Kept asking me to predict what song was gonna come onto their ipods next and it was like, I couldn't control it."

"So what happened?"

"We spent the weekend at the other end of the state with some relatives. My mom, dad and me were driving back home. And we crashed the car. There was this guy standing in our way." Anyway, my dad was knocked out. And I was bleeding. I must've been unconscious too but it was like I could see what was going on. It was weird all fuzzy. The man came and he took my mom. He dragged her away and she was screaming and biting. He took her from the wreckage though and he bit his wrist. And he had these teeth. I was petrified but I couldn't move. And he gave her some of his blood."

"I'm sorry about your mom, Nat."

"She's not dead," Nat said, fiercely.

"No I know that. He was a vampire."

"I've taken down as many goddamn nests as I can but she's never there. I was sent to psychologist after psychologist. Dad said he believed me but even now, I'm not sure he did. And then one told us the truth. He was a retired hunter, telling people who came into contact with the supernatural that they weren't crazy. I was a stupid kid and I wanted to find my mom and dad did too. So we started hunting though he was a little scared of taking me with at first. And the powers helped. It was like they were getting stronger. I could sense a monster before it came. Gave me great reflexes."

"Seems like we all have family issues here," Dean said to her. "Maybe we should go get a beer some time, discuss it?" He leaned a little closer to her. Sam gave him a look of disbelief, realizing what he was trying to do.

"If there's gonna be beer, count me in, but if you're gonna be there, no offense but I'm out again." She left them alone after that, going over to discuss with Jody and her father.

"Think maybe we should be in there, helping them out?"

"Dean, I saw what you were doing there."

"What was I doing?"

"With Nat. She must be ten years younger than you."

"Oh that. Sure."

"You know she's not interested in you."

"What are you talking about Sammy? Girls act like they're not interested all the time but they are."

"Glad to see your arrogant side is showing again. I thought you were done with this."

"When all Hell is breaking loose, I'm never done."

_____

_He was standing in oblivion. Pure nothingness, everywhere, surrounding him. It was beneath his feet, over his head, on his left, on his right, neither light nor dark. It was colorless, terrifying. enough to drive a person insane. If he tried to move, he could fall into that endless...he could not think of a word to describe it. Because you don't need words to describe what isn't there. He could not see. He could not breathe. Here, Castiel was truly alone. Except he wasn't. And he wasn't even really there. It was an illusion._

_Out of the nothingness came a high pitched scream. It was a true cry for help and he would answer it if he knew where it came from. And then, he saw a girl, hanging by chains before him. And behind him. She was everywhere. Two hazel eyes looked through red hair and straight through him and her hands jerked around in their bloodstained cuffs. Anna. It was another dream. Except, this time, she couldn't see him._

_And then, the nothingness was gone. He was standing instead on a stone floor. In a prison cell. And now, there was only one Anna._

_The steel door behind him was unlocked and he moved away so that the visitor could come in. But this was a memory. They couldn't see him._

_He knew the angel poised over Anna now. A different vessel. But he still recognized her. And he recognized Anna's pain for he had gone through the same. And all he could do was watch as Naomi forced one of her needle-sharp torture devices into his sister's eye. And he knew it was his fault that she had had to suffer this._

_He would have expected her to cry out once again. But she made barely a sound though he could see the scream almost escaping her lips. Blood had crusted around her lips like some awful smudged lipstick and he could already see it healing, the skin beginning to grow over._

_Anna looked Naomi straight in the eye. "Kill me," she whispered. "What use am I now?"_

_"You know of your crimes. Now you must pay."_

_"Thinking for myself, that's such a crime? Wouldn't it be so much quicker to just kill me? You know what our mission was. To protect humanity."_

_"Yes, to protect humanity. Not to become one of them. Not to work with a demon. Not to work with the very humans who were working against us. To kill you would be showing you mercy."_

_"I just want the suffering to end. I'd rather die than become what you want me to be." Anna rasped._

_Naomi looked her in the eye and laughed. "Soon you won't feel the pain, Anael. I know all your secrets. I can see inside your mind." And then she dug her knife in deeper._

_This was Anna's prison, this place, this cell. They say Hell's torture is bad and in a way, it is but angel torture is used to repel other angels from committing their crimes. Even when Naomi was gone, when she had to perform her other interrogations, Anna was trapped in the oblivion state. And it was almost worse than the swords and knives. It was its very own weapon. Because it made her feel like she was truly alone._

_And Cas knew what was happening. Naomi was reprogramming her, just as she had done to him. Almost all the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. Except for one._

_Naomi was repeating something over and over again. "Who do you serve?" But Anna could not or would not force out a reply. Because she didn't serve Heaven._

_"The Apocalypse," Naomi demanded._

_"Must end," Anna groaned. And this continued, this little dance between them, back and forth, Anna not responding to her questions or giving just the opposite of what she expected. And each time Anna failed, Naomi would open a new wound, leave a new scar to quickly heal. Light streamed out, the new grace she would have recently regained, and blood had begun to spatter the floor. But not too much. For Naomi was a professional and she knew how not to make a mess._

_But slowly, it started to work. Anna was giving in. She was giving up. She wanted to be free. She would say anything to not spend the rest of eternity in constant pain. Because she would escape._

_"Who do you serve?"_

_For a minute, there was complete silence. But Anna was no longer struggling. And then her lips began to move. And a grumble came from them._

_"Who do you serve?"_

_And this time, it was clear, her answer. "Heaven."_

_"The Apocalypse."_

_"Must win. Must defeat Lucifer. M-Michael must kill Lucifer."_

_And Naomi smiled that sickly smile of hers. "You are ready."_

_"Do you see what they did to me? They made me into a monster." It was Anna's sweet voice whispering in his air. He turned but she wasn't there. Instead, there was a burning corpse on the floor of an old barn._

_"They burned me from the inside out."_

_"Anna," he yelled. But she was nowhere. Unless you counted that body that she had ridden around in. As a pile of ash, it wasn't much use to her anymore._

_"They tried to make me one of them again. And they succeeded. I gave in to their torture. They changed me."_

_"I don't understand. They wanted you to help the Apocalypse continue. That was what the angels wanted. So why was it necessary to kill Sam?" He was spinning around, searching for her. This was not like the other dreams. There, he had felt her presence. It was real. But she was barely here now. Like an imprint in his mind._

_"They tried to change you. But that didn't stop you fighting when they asked you to kill Meg and Dean. And I didn't stop fighting either." He could just make out her outline. She was almost completely transparent._

_"You knew what I wanted most. To stop the Apocalypse. To save humanity. That stayed. But I was gone. I was their soldier with my own cause. And that made me a murderer. In a way, I was relieved to die. Because I never should have lived that long anyway. It was good for it to finally end."_

_Was it his imagination or was she growing even fainter?_

_"I won't be able to see you again. I'm not strong enough. But you don't have to worry. And remember everything I've shown you, Cas. It will help."_


	8. Remembering

Meg turned through books, carefully. This Jody, she had no idea what she was keeping in her own little hunter library. She had spell after spell if she could look hard enough, guides to every unnatura; creature ever seen and recorded. She wondered where she had found them all.

Meg tossed her previous read to the floor. It seemed relatively new and basic, another hunters' guide telling you to carry salt and iron around. They were all stacked up on a bookshelf beside her bed. She found herself wondering where the woman got them all. Maybe there was a hunters' library somewhere.

The next was far older, ancient with stained and yellowing pages that she had to turn so carefully to be sure they didn't crumble apart in her hands. There were no photos in this, only carefully scrawled drawings. She spotted one of a narrowed, black eye, staring straight back at her. The whole thing was in Latin but that proved no barrier. This was the demon page.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. She began to fold the page when a voice spoke from behind her.

"I know you."

Even without turning, she could see the person's reflection in the miniature mirror that hung over Jody's bedside table. A young girl, human. This must be one of those hunter friends.

"Really? You know me?"

"You're the demon that the Winchesters brought along. But no, not you. Your body."

Meg glanced down at her hand. "You knew this girl?" She tried to recall her from the memory she had stolen. But that presence was gone. Of course, the girl was dead.

"Yeah. Went to my college. Bet you didn't expect I had the time to study did you? But my dad let me take a break for a while. Said it would be good for me. There was this small place in Michigan and I took mainly psychology. Was there three years.  She was focusing on performing arts. 'Coupla years older than me."

"Really?" Meg's vessel must have been twenty seven when the accident happened. And when she stopped aging. The hunter looked could be no older than twenty three. "How old are you?"

"Just turned twenty eight." She certainly didn't look it. "I've been mistaken for a sixteen year old though before. Dad says I was an incredibly small baby. I came out at a little over seven months, weighing just an unhealthy four and a half pounds."

"So what was her name?"

"Lydia. She never told her surname. Only used it for health forms and crap like that. But she didn't like her name. I mean, it wasn't like she hated it but she said it was too fancy for her, what with...her background."

"Oh yeah? What was her background?"

"She lived alone. She ran away from home when she was fifteen. She was the youngest of five siblings. Dad was an alcoholic. Mom ran away with another guy when she was little."

"I take it you knew her well?"

The other woman's grin vanished. "Yeah, yeah. Very well. She was a real nice girl. Not that I'm comparing you to her or anything. I mean, you seem nice too. Nicer than most demons I've met. To be honest, you're the one I've got closest to who didn't try to rip my heart out through my chest."

"I don't know. I only like to rip the hearts out of the chests of the girls I'm on a name to name business with."

She held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Nat. And I'm psychic."

"Sure. I'm Meg." She brushed her hand away.

"God, you even sound like her. Sorry. It's a little creepy. That's all. So what happened to Lydia?"

"Hit and run. Drunk driver. She died instantly, I think." She was lying to her. Of course, that was just what she did but why. She could at least be honest with Nat. She had been Lydia's friend after all. Lydia. For years, she had just been the girl, the meatsuit, the vessel, the host, the body, whatever.  As unreal as those orange, large breasted celebrities in those magazines she so hated but yet she read. As unreal as Harry Potter or Wonder Woman. All she had had was her appearance. But now a form for her was building in her head. What was her favorite food? What music did she listen to? She wanted to know.

But she looked at Nat's face and she saw emotion. She cared about Lydia more strongly than she was letting on. And she felt compassion for her. So she lied.

Nat smiled. "Good. A quick death. Her suffering ended."

Oh if only.

"So what were you doing in here?"

"You know. Just browsing through some of Jody's books. She's got a lot here." She dropped the one in her hand down on the mattress. "So you said you were psychic?"

"Yeah, sorta. I mean, I sense energies. I can see things before they happen. And I can read how people are feelin' a little of the time."

"You think you could help. I could do with a psychic right now."

"What's the problem?"

_____

Soon, Jody was finished catching up with Brandon. Him and his daughter had been driving all night. It wasn't that they had had another case but their current residence was up in Washington. She had known him a little while now and he was fascinating. He was a clever man, too and showing it by wearing those glasses like a highschool science nerd. He was a high profile surgeon before he started hunting, he had said. And he always ended up getting technical when having a conversation. That was why he normally left Nat to do the talking.

He had loved his wife a lot. She was alive and a bloodthirsty vampire and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Do you mind if I take a look in your garage? I have a new machine I'm working on, I'm not sure it's perfect yet but it's meant to test areas for sulphur and I thought if these really were demons, they would be able to trace it."

"Are you suggesting that Sam and Dean are lying?"

"Of course not. I'm sure they saw what they saw. But what if it was some kind of illusion? There are many creatures that could cause that. I have a list of them right here. You say you lined the house with salt? Not a line is disturbed."

"Don't doubt my boys, Brandon. Yes, you can search my garage. Just be careful. There's a sleeping fallen angel in there."

As if on cue, Cas appeared in the kitchen doorway, fully dressed once again. A night of sleep had done him some good. His hair was sticking up in all directions but his skin was far more full of color and his eyes were wide and shining their  pure, sapphire blue.

"I have to urinate. Where is your bathroom?"

Dimples appeared on Jody's cheeks as she forced herself not to laugh. " Upstairs. You should find it easily enough. Oh and Cas, there's a razor in the cupboard behind the mirror. You could use it."

He disappeared.

"He's one of the fallen angels? How many creatures are you harboring here, Sheriff? A demon in your bedroom, an angel in the bathroom and the Winchesters drinking coffee on your couch."

"They 're not creatures, Brandon."

"A demon_"

"Sam and Dean trust her, as far as I can tell. Your daughter doesn't seem to have a problem and she can sense evil, right? That's good enough for me."

_____

"So you want me advice from? " Nat sat beside Meg on the bed, resting her head on one elbow."

"I know you've got some juice in you. Maybe it would work. Azazel was asking me all these questions about them. Like they were important."

"I thought you demons got to keep your memories. Isn't it meant to make the pain even worse or somethin'?"

"From what I've heard, it's like that for most of us. But it's not like it's their lives. It's like human them and demon them are two different people. They just observed the human's life, they didn't live it. Sometimes I tried to remember. But something was stopping me. I think I was scared of what I'd find."

"And you said this Azazel dude, he's your dad?"

"I couldn't give a crap about that bastard. Haven't in ages. But at first, he was like a father. All of us were his children. Like the human children he gave his blood to. He said he had special plans for us in Hell. Not all of us made it through. Not all of us escaped. But I was one of the strongest. He always told me he could see that. And sometimes, he would tell me I was the best out of them. He would smile and say 'don't tell the others. This is strictly between you and me.' Now I'm the last woman standing."

"I'd say you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I studied psychology. And I know, if you're so afraid of what you have to hide, the best thing to do is to face your fear."

Cas stumbled in then and looked between the two of them. "I-I'm sorry. I was trying to find the bathroom."

"This the angel boy you were telling me about?"

Meg nodded.

She went over to him and held out a hand, just like she had done with her. "Pleased to meet you, Cas. I'm Nat."

He squinted but then, unlike Meg, chose to shake her hand.

"So why'd you tell me first?" Nat asked, turning her head back over her shoulder. "I barely know you and wouldn't that be the first thing you would tell Sam and Dean?"

Meg shrugged. "Number of insults those two have tossed at me over the years, I thought it would be better to keep this one silent."

"I don't understand," said Castiel. "What are you referring to?"

In the few seconds since he had come in, Meg had almost forgotten he was there. "It doesn't matter. Go back to the others." She ran a hand through her hair and tried not to pay attention to his shining hair. It was messy. It suited him. Made him look younger.

"Meg here wants me to look into her human memories."

Meg glared at Nat.

"Well I'm sorry. But from what you said, they sound important. Maybe they could help us figure this whole goddamn demons rising thing out."

"I know that. It's just, don't go broadcasting it to the whole world. It's OK. I shouldn't have asked you in the first place. Azazel was probably just trying to scare me. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Meg you-"

"You stay out of this." She put a warning finger up as Cas took a step nearer to her and he backed away. "Look, there are the things you forget and the things you don't want to remember. This is both. And there must be a reason for that, right? What if finding out the truth destroys me. Apart from the psychic wonder here, I'm Sam and Dean's biggest chance against them. I know their weaknesses and strengths. I know, I mean I knew what made Azazel tick. I know all the stories about Abaddon. And I was that Alastair tortured me. And yes, I know I'm making excuses about it." Then she took a deep breath, knowing eventually they'd be able to talk her into it.

"Fine. Nat, give me all you got. And Clarence, stay back." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Here's goes nothing." Nat pressed her hand against her forehead. She unlocked that door. And she remembered.

_____

**_November 1811_ **

_The woman screamed. She cried out, sharing her pain with all those around her. It sounded like she was dying and likely she was but all the others in the room did was stand by. They had given her towels and warm water but so far, it had been going on for hours with no sign of this being a success. But Mother, she watched with no emotion on her face. And finally she turned to the young girl._

_"Do it."_

_Arya looked confused. She wanted to refuse straight away. This would kill the woman, this would be taking an innocent life. In exchange for a new one. They had none of the right medicines after all. Another young, new one of them. But Arya had always done what she was told. She had always been loyal to their cause. So she picked up the knife and her hands did not shake as she carved it into the woman's skin, only making her howl louder. This was torture to her. Blood fell onto her slender finger and seeped under her bitten down nails but she continued. The other assistants and the nurse prepared the blankets and Arya opened the wound. And then a second set of cries joined the woman as Arya dragged the baby from inside her stomach. It was warm and soaked with blood and she stared straight into its green eyes, so like its mother's, the woman who up until now had been a good friend of hers. Beneath the red, its face was scrunched up and it had a skinny frame. She expected it would stay like that for the rest of its life. The woman took it in her arms while holding it away from her body so as not to get blood all over her tidy clothes._

_"It's a boy," she declared in a stern tone. He was only a skinny thing too, she had been able to feel his ribcage through his papery skin, just in the ten seconds she had held him. He wasn't good enough for them. He would go straight to the workhouse._

_"Wait," she said, so that Mother cast a disappointed glance in her direction. "Let Alice see him." That was the woman, the new mother's name. The nurse hesitated but then put him gently onto his mother's lap. And Alice whimpered but kept her eyes open. Blood was streaming from her chest but she had control of the pain now._

_"Edward," she whispered in his ear but loud enough for everyone to hear. And then her whimpering stopped._

_"Dead," the nurse announced and immediately, everyone began to clear away as the nurse took the baby, Edward, outside. Arya stared at the corpse for a moment, and then she too, began to help._

_______

_"Many of you girls come from special bloodlines. This is most likely the reason why you were chosen to be one of us. Now the true vessels of angels are commonly from these such bloodlines. There is a chance that they will request to use you as a vessel. They will do everything in their power to make you say yes and I mean everything. And eventually, you will give in. But can you control them, can you use what we have taught you after all these years? Catherine, can you step forward please?" Catherine was another girl, Arya's age of seventeen, with blonde hair which she had always envied, and freckles dotted over her red cheeks.  As Catherine came forwards, Mother tapped her on the head so that she sunk to the ground._

_"Control the pain," she said and then raised a hot iron to the girl's forehead. And she carved a sigil. Enochian, they had been taught to recognize it at this stage although what it meant, she had no idea, despite their language lessons. But they all knew what was going to happen. This was a summoning ritual. She pressed the iron down on her neck as the symbol for binding was formed and then stood back. And she dropped a flaming torch to the floor. A circle of fire rose around Catherine. It was holy fire. And then Mother spoke, again using Enochian. She brought her hand down to complete the spell and a light rose through the room. Catherine had her eyes squeezed shut but the look on her mouth told all. She was in pure agony. Her hands had made fists and the veins in her forehead were throbbing. Arya had been trained to withstand this noise that shattered glass, an angel's true voice. But that did not stop it hurting like Hell._

_When the light had vanished, Catherine bowed her head and she clutched her hands to her temple._

_"Control it, Catherine."_

_"I can't. He-he says he can't. I'm not his true vessel. He's going to take over."_

_"Control it!"_

_But then, Catherine's eyes flashed a blue as she lost control. Who were they kidding? Angels were the most powerful creatures they knew of. Nothing, especially not weak humans, no matter how noble the bloodline, could overcome them._

_And then she, or at least Catherine's body, stood up straight. Angels were not meant to have emotions but this angel, it had fear. It feared whatever was happening to it. It looked around wildly through Catherine's eyes and then it fixed on Arya, looking straight into her eyes, one brown, one blue, a most unusual combination._

_Mother came forwards, to stand in front of him. "Angel, you are a prisoner of us, the. There is no hope of escape."_

_Was Mother going to kill it? She knew that if the angel died, so would Catherine. She looked at it with what was meant to be pity but somehow, she looked to be dancing with joy at her power. Some of the girls, they came forwards, right to the edge of the ring of fire and examined it. Arya took one step forwards when a young student tapped her as far up her back as she could reach. As Arya spun around, she placed a scrap of paper in her hand and then scurried away. She turned it over. A short sentence was written in neat handwriting._

_Meet me in the alley at 7._

_H_

_______

_Arya waited in the alley. No one was about, all eating their scraps for dinner or just hanging around and talking. The street was damp from the heavy rain the night before. It had gotten through the holes in the roof and caused many puddles on the floors. And then a whisper came from beside her ear._

_"Psst."_

_"Helena?" She said, loudly and then covered her mouth at her mistake. She knew that she obviously did not want anyone to know they were here, otherwise they would not have been called to such a private place. As young children, the pair of them would come together, just the two of them, without Helena's usual gang. Helena had been older and absolutely beautiful with her brown eyes and healthy, glowing skin which was so rare for people of their class. All the boys had admired her the whole time. They had been rebels of a sort, she now knew. They should have been studying in their tiny rooms, learning their spells and languages if they could make out the handwritten, messy print from what the society had been able to buy. The girls from here were considered to be sophisticated but they had dressed in trousers and shirts, like the boys, and Helena had taught her how to swordfight and use a dagger. They had stolen from the markets even though they had been told that though they came from the lowest class, they were better than those street thieves. But those days were over._

_"Hello. Quick, come over here."_

_Arya shrugged and then followed her sister to the very end of the street. Helena had an urgent look on her face. Her dark hair, the same color as Arya's, had come loose of her usual bun and fell at her shoulders. The hem of her raggedy dress was stained with what looked to be mud. She certainly was not what they would call presentable._

_"What's the matter?"_

_"Arya, I need tell you a secret. You have to promise, you cannot tell anyone."_

_"No need to be so dramatic." Arya laughed but her sister held a serious expression. "Alright, I promise."_

_"The system. It is not what you think. Mother, she...she is not telling us everything. Everything here, it is corrupt."_

_"I know that. But it is our best hope. Lena, war is inevitable and we cannot escape it unless we put all our trust in the society."_

_"No, you do not understand. You-they have changed you and the way you think. Arya, you used to be different."_

_"No but what do you mean by this?"_

_"You have seen what they have done. Mother does not want to save us. She acts all good an honest and tells us to be the bigger women but...there is more to it. I cannot explain all right now but I have found some people who we really can trust. They do not want war, just peace."_

_"Helena." For once, she used her sister's full name. "Who are they?"_

_The other girl took a deep breath. "They call themselves the Men of Letters. They have bases, all over the world, in America, in Asia, one right here in London."_

_"Lena_"_

_"I can trust them. They understand me. But you do not."_

_"But Lena, you can't. You can't seriously betray us. You can't sink that low."_

_"You have let Mother get in your head. She is not your mother, Arya, not your real mother. And she is certainly not who you think she is. Our true mother would not have wanted this for you. She would want you to have a mind of your own and not be a brainless slave. You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone."_

_"Lena, I do not like this decision you are making. I will do everything I can to stop you. But you are my sister, I love you and I will not tell another living soul."_

_______

_Arya made her way out into the main hall of the church for supper. She would be late and people would wonder where she had been. She would tell them she had been outside, a vague answer but the truth. She did not have to tell them what she had been doing there. And then Mother stepped into her path. An evil smile played across her lips._

_"Someone's been a naughty girl." Arya turned but there were more of the Mother's close helpers, grabbing her. They dragged her into a side room and pushed her into a chair. She kicked out at them and one of them clutched her nose as blood streamed down her cheek. They tied the girl down. But then, Mother picked up a knife. And Arya quivered._

_"Fear. Oh dear. Can't control it can you, Arya?" She drew the knife down her neck. Arya could not control the pain this time. She stared at the blood oozing from the wound. It hurt so badly. But Mother would not stop._

_"You are going to tell me. Your sister has a secret. And you know. Now tell me what you know!" she yelled._

_"I know nothing!" Arya shouted and she tried to jerk her hands from their bindings._

_"Liar! Tell me what you know or this pain will continue."_

_Arya sighed deep breaths and looked up at them. What would happen to her sister now, what would happen to her?_

_"Keep going. I'm just starting to have fun." There was blood in her teeth. How had that gotten there? Mother laughed and this was not the mother she knew._

_"You will tell me eventually. I can be quite persuasive." She jerked the girl's head back so that her neck felt like it was about to snap. She brought the knife closer to her eye. "Be a good girl, listen to your mother. We could not have you losing these beautiful eyes, could we?" She left a mark on her skin and Arya blinked as the blood trickled into her eyelashes._

_"No!"_

_"We'll just have to try harder then." This time, she dug into Arya's chest. Arya had never know true pain, other than the tests Mother had given her._

_"Helena," she mumbled. "She-she does not trust the society."_

_"Good, good."_

_"She's betraying us. She is working with some people called the...Men of Letters."_

_"Excellent. Where can I find these Men of Letters?"_

_"They are right here in-in London."_

_"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" She released her. "I hope you know your place too, Arya." And then she exited back into the hall. The helpers loosened her bindings and she stood up and she ran too, after Mother. In the main room, the older woman was heading through the door, this one leading outside. She pushed through a crowd of people, some her friends. She went as fast as she could but even that was not fast enough, especially with her tangled skirt. She heard the scream that was so recognizable as her sister and knew immediately. Mother came out of the room again and her fingers were stained with blood. And she walked past and for some reason, Arya could not bring herself to fight her. Instead, she headed straight for her sister._

_Helena was lying on the cold, hard ground with her skirts in a pile. She still wore her red dress. But on her chest, a darker stain right where her heart should be. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open. She was dead. Arya had no one. She clutched the body in her hands, hoping for some sign of life. She let the blood soak into her own clothes but there was nothing she could do. She sobbed. And then footsteps came from behind her._

_"What a shame. Such a remarkable girl, too." It was a man's voice. She spun around. A young man, she had seen him on the streets before, in a top hat and suit and flower tucked into his lapel. He was handsome with sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes and tall too. Some of the girls talked about him in their breaks when they knew they were not supposed to._

_"Who are you?" she said through her tears and despair._

_"That doesn't matter right now. I have something you might want." His eyes flashed yellow. She stumbled backwards._

_"You're a demon." She had never seen one. That was not exactly true. She had but it had been an exorcism in the main hall where they had almost all their lessons, seeing as none of the other rooms were big enough to fit the thirty-something boys and girls here. Them and the body they were possessing had been encaged within a Devil's trap and she had been perfectly safe._

_"It's alright. I won't hurt you. But I have an offer."_

_She straightened up. "You want to make a deal with me." She had read up on all this. "My soul in Hell in ten years time for Helena's life."_

_"No."_

_"What?"_

_"No deal. Sorry, it would be too much to give back. Ten years, well it's far too much."_

_"But that's the deal, it always has been." Was she actually considering this?_

_Can't let a magnificent little thing like you slip away by squeezing out of the deal which I know you'd be perfectly capable of. It would be such a waste. No. I can grant you a day. Twenty four hours, no more, no less."_

_She spat at his face. Why was she so stupid? He could gut her alive. He could slice her throat. But then he wouldn't would he? Because he wanted her to make this deal. She began to leave, dragging the body with. If she could find a way to revive her, to summon her reaper, maybe, just maybe..._

_"Your 'Mother's' head on a plate."_

_Her head twisted around. "No. No I mean, I hate her but there is no way I could ask for that." But she could not help questioning him. "Helena's life, and you destroy the Mother?"_

_"Yes. It is plenty, don't you think. Normally, we just give one thing. Now this, this is a bonus deal."_

_"It is still a no."_

_"You know you are guilty. It's your fault she's dead. You have seen what an awful person 'Mother' is. Don't you just hate her? You want her to die. And she will. You're smart. You're cunning. And you're loyal. But you have to decide who you are more loyal to, the society, those murderers who killed your sister, or your own blood who has never wronged you. And you'll get the best treatment. If you make it through fast enough, I'll be watching you blossom and grow. And I'll let you work by my side."_

_"As a demon?"_

_He shrugged. "It is a good deal."_

_Arya looked up at him and wiped a tear from her eye. It was not like her to cry, especially in public. "If I do this, will Helena be alright? I mean, will she live happily and...die happily?" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand._

_" She won't have a sister. But other than that, she should be fine. And if you mean will she be coming downstairs with you, no, she was too good a person. as they say, the only way is up."_

_"Then yes." She looked awkwardly at him. "We seal the deal with a kiss?"_

_"Very good. Knowledgeable. You will do well." He clasped her face and brought her lips up against his and she tasted the sulphur in his saliva. She spat as he pulled away. "You'd better say goodbye to your friends. And believe me there's a hot weather forecast for tomorrow." And then he vanished into the night, leaving her to realize what she's just done and how many people she'd just condemned._

_______

_She was running around the hall. She had been shouting, the words had been unclear and slurred together with grief, with guilt. What had she done? He was going to kill them. Every last one. Mother, she needed to pay but none of these other girls. But the girls stood stock still, staring at her, occasionally laughing. She was mad, Arya was mad. They had heard her sister had died of an illness though none had been given specific details. So this was it for them. She had damaged hundreds of lives to save one._

_There they still were, pointing and jeering with pure disgust written across their faces. There was no way she could convince them to come with. So, she was going to die and then the demon, he would come for them too._

_And then she reached the tiny room where they had imprisoned the angel. And as she peered in through the door, the holy fire was still there and so was it, inside the body of her friend. It looked worn out and just like it had given up. Along Catherine's neck, the skin was beginning to rot away already. At least she could save one, maybe two people because after all, an angel is a living thing, in her last few hours. She approached. And it looked up and backed away but already its arms were in a fighting position. It was powerless now but it could still put up a good fight. She grabbed a bucket of water which lay on the floor. And then, with all her strength, she tossed it onto the flames. And there was such a look of delight on its face, thankful, its belief had returned. And it stood without a word as she dipped the iron rod into one of the candles, specially lit for anyone who wanted to come in here and train after lesson hours. It did not flinched as she pushed it against Catherine's forehead and the binding sigil was taken away by the burn._

_"You are free. You can leave. You can leave my friend. Return to Heaven." If it wanted to of course._

_It twisted its head to the side and spoke clearly in her friend's voice. "What is your name?"_

_And she answered it. "Arya."_

_It stared for a moment. "Arya. Thank you." And then the same bright light from the day before filled the entire room. As Catherine's body fell to the floor. She ran. The barking was filling her head. Her time was up._

_____

I remember," Meg said. "And then, she collapsed on the floor.

 


	9. Searching

"We called ourselves the society. The society of what, no one really knew. They said there had been many names, the society of Apocalyptic protection, and others. That's the only one I remember but they sounded kind of lame. So we just stuck with the society. Must've formed us in the third or fourth centuries, when London was this tiny town in the middle of a swamp." Meg paced back and forth Jody's sitting room.

"Hold on a second. You came from England?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, wouldn't think it now, would you. But back then, the states were more like just the state. The colonies came about a century before. We weren't rich. Not at all. But they told us we came from special bloodlines, kinda like you two." She gestured her head towards Sam and Dean. "Would've made us worthy hunters, vessels for angels. But we had a more important mission: to stop the Biblical Apocalypse. They said it was coming. It was inevitable. It could be the next day, it could be a thousand years from then. But we had to be ready. Every generation, they elected a new woman to lead us. They called her the mother. We were meant to be born living there and die there. My family hadn't been part of the society. They didn't know about us. My sister and me, we lived out in the country for a few years with our own mother. And then they came for us. They took us away from her. She didn't come from a special bloodline. That was my father. He ran away with another woman before I was even born. We weren't as experienced as the rest but it would have to do. My sister, Helena, she was really smart and they told me I was good with weaponry. Nice to see some things haven't changed."

"So what happened?"

"The new mother was evil. I don't know how none of us saw it but girls disappeared. The weak ones. I think she killed them. Helena realized what was going on and she found other people she trusted. The Men of Letters."

Sam's jaw dropped opnen.

"The mother found out about it. And she killed her. And I made a deal with Azazel to bring her back. Maybe that's why I was so loyal to him. Because in my past life, I was so selfish."

"You weren't selfish," said Cas. "You gave up your own life to save your sister."

"No. I let him destroy the society, kill over two hundred people who were mostly kids,  bring on the Apocalypse and save my sister. I gave my own life for that. You see Dean, you and I have more in common than you think."

He scowled at that. "What do you know, Sammy? Men of Letters have been around longer than we thought."

"I guess it kind of makes more sense," Meg said. "But I don't see what it has to do with Yellow Eyes and everything."

"Maybe if we researched_"

"Come on, Sam, no one wants to do any more research," moaned Dean.

"Much as I hate to agree with him, research is the only thing we can do right now. We have no leads, no idea where the Hell they could have gone." Meg nodded. "I'll start upstairs." She held up a hand as Nat, Cas and Sam all began to get up to help her, signalling she wanted to be alone. They listened as her heavy and careless footsteps clumped up the stairs.

"What's that all about?"

"Meg prefers to be alone, I have found," Castiel commented.

And they decided to leave her alone. None of them knew exactly how she would be coping with her newfound memories. Did she feel guilty about what she had done? Or happy that she had saved her sister? If the society had really been trying to stop the Apocalypse, then Dean could hardly see what they would have been able to do, judging what he had to face. And then that Mother woman, she certainly sounded nothing like a saviour. If someone like that had hurt Sam, Dean knew he would most likely have done the same thing.

Sam was now tapping away at the base of his laptop with his eyes focused intensely on the bright screen. He wondered whether he was searching through the lore or the blogs of some so called monster experts.

Eventually, Cas decided it was time to go and check on her. They had barely been looking an hour and Dean had not seen him doing much work at all. So far, they had heard not a sound from upstairs, just complete silence.

Sam offered to come with, Dean too and Nat and Dean found himself fumbling in his pocket for a gun. It was stupid, but just in case one of the demons had gotten to her again.

But they came to the empty bedroom. A pile of books was tossed on the floor and a pile of ashes were spread out across a double page. Something had fallen aside, a scrap of paper. From a map. The curtains flapped like wings in the strong wind from outside. She had opened the window.

"She's gone after them."

_____

Meg's feet hit hard against the concrete and she was rolling over, her jacket gathering up dust. She had always hated teleporting. She was one of the few demons who didn't spend their days working at the crossroads, who had that power. She had taught it to herself. Unfortunately, that meant it had some downsides. She couldn't travel more than ten miles on a good day. And she had to save up the energy, otherwise it could kill her. It was unlikely but still possible.

Doing it now felt even worse than how it used to. Since her body had been rebuilt or whatever had really happened, it was not quite the same. She found herself choking a whole lot more during the movement between the two areas and had decided to hold her breath for as long as she could. Because the changes in the air ripped at her skin but mainly the back of her throat.

She checked her surroundings. An old lady was standing over her, eyeballs almost bursting out of their high up sockets. An arm fitted into a woollen cardigan was stretched out to her.

"You alright, love?" she asked and Meg began to pick herself up, using the woman's support. "You took quite a tumble."

"I'm fine," she said and tried to give her an expression that looked thankful. "Not the worst I've had." You try going to Hell, she thought of saying to her. But she looked insane enough and this was meant to be a surprise entrance. She couldn't attract attention by being the mad woman on the local news.

"Well I can't see any damage," the woman droned on. "It's just, I could have sworn you just appeared out of thin air. Anyway, I'd better be moving on. And you'd better too, my dear. It's dangerous out here for a young girl at this time."

Bet I'm twenty times as old as you, sister. She had had this lectured to her all the time by people who underestimated her, who didn't know of the powerful demon lurking behind the pretty face. But that was normally as she made her way home from bars in the middle of the night. Not at, what time was it? She searched the area for some sign and spotted a clock hanging over the stairs leading to the subway. 1:50pm.

"It's not late," she said and she obviously sounded confused along with a little ungrateful.

"Oh no no. Most people aren't out around now. You heard what happened?"

"No."

"All the girls found in the streets, men too. Some had to be taken to hospital. Looked like they'd been going for miles. Their feet were bare and all blistered. Media keeping very quiet about it, though. But I saw it. I saw that parade as they marched through here."

"Parade?"

"My dear, you really are behind. They saw them marching through so many towns, leaving some people behind. All those who tried to get a closer view ended up joining them, poor saps. But I can't stand around chattering all day. Get yourself bandaged up."

Meg took a quick glance downwards. The fabric over her knee had come apart and crisp brown blood was already drying over the tiny wound.

She strode off but what she did not see was the huge cloud of black smoke, choking the old lady from all sides. As she tried to scream, it was absorbed in through her mouth. "She took out a cell phone from one of her many pockets in her skirt. "Your majesty, she's here."

Azazel had left a hair on her. They really should learn to not get that close. The other members of her new gang of hunters still had no idea of her knowledge of witchcraft and they wouldn't. Other than Sam, none of them had seen her perform even a basic spell. But the demon who had once been her father, he had encouraged her to learn magic, he had even helped her a little, but she had found the rest herself. He would know if he left any of his DNA on her, she would be able to find him. Which means this was a trap.

"Dammit," she muttered. The map had led her to a five star hotel, in a minor city of Ohio. She was now climbing the fire escape stairs. Hopefully, they wouldn't be expecting her to come in that way. But then, it was hardly like she was going to use the front door.

The spell had not given her a location in terms of altitude which meant she had no idea which level the demons had gathered on. This place seemed a bit high class for Azazel. He had always preferred abandoned mines and factories, not drawing attention to himself, just like her. Her plan had been to climb to the roof, figure out her bearings but she found herself exhausted and clutching her hip by the penthouse level. Of course, the teleportation had taken some of her strength away, not to mention the mild throbbing in her knee.

She peeked in through the window which was almost fully clouded by a velvety curtain. But she could still see visitors of the room or just the one visitor in fact, a red headed woman with her back to her. A demon. And a pretty high up one from what she could see.

She slid the window upwards. It was unlocked and barely made a sound. As she slipped one denim covered leg over the sill, a strong hand grabbed it and hauled the rest of her body through the window.

On a reflex, she struck out, the heel of her boots smashing in between the demon's legs. He shrieked and it was high-pitched and as he doubled over, she forced her fingers into his eyes which struggled to shut against her sharp nails. But four more hands took her, carrying her away like she weighed nothing and tossing her to the floor in the middle of a circle of salt.

She glared after the three demons, all dressed in neat suits, and they backed away into the corner. She was now looking straight up into the face of the red haired woman. It was well made up with heavy, winged eyeliner and shocking red lips. Her fingertips were pressed to her pale

"What a nice surprise, Meg. Or should I call you Arya?" She licked her lips and beamed at Meg's shock.

"I know who you are. You're Abaddon, knight of Hell."

"I know all about you too, Arya."

Meg flinched. "Don't call me that."

"Meg. You'd rather use the name of some sweet little college student. Yes, Azazel told me all about you. Talk about low self esteem. But don't you remember me? We were ever so close. Like mother and daughter. And you've been a very naughty girl."

She had heard that somewhere before. No, it couldn't be.

"Mother."

"That was a tricky meatsuit. That poor girl, thought prayer and a few crosses could keep her away from the darkness. Yes, she was just a girl when I entered her. But I had to get to know you all, first. I was so determined to take that society down straight away but Azazel, he was so keen on recruiting one of them. He had his eye on your sister at first, she was so smart. She would be an excellent daughter for him. But she was disloyal. And you were loyal. But it turned out, even you have that rebellious streak of your family's too. It just didn't show at first. And you went and fell in love with an angel. No, don't deny it. We all know it. And now, you are going to be his killer."

"What are you talking about, Abaddon?"

She knelt down, just next to the salt line. "Well your little saviour can't bear to see you hurt. He's going to come after you like a dog after a stick and that's when we take him. Nothing's more priceless than a fallen angel. Don't worry, you won't care about him for much longer. Soon, you'll be ruling beside me. But for now, my army are taking care of your friends. Lock her up!" She yelled at her demon slaves.

_____

"I'm going after her," Cas announced as he scooped up the piece of paper.

"It's from a spell," Nat said. "Must be a tracking spell."

"She doesn't want you to go after her," Dean said. "Just earlier, you were saying how we had to leave her alone and now look at the mess we're in."

"She is in danger. And I must save her like she has saved me, so many times."

"Cas, we need to be perfectly honest with you." Dean figured out what Sam was about to say as he stepped forwards, his eyebrows turned upwards slightly, making him look even more like a begging puppy.

"Sam, stop!"

"No Dean. He needs to hear it from us."

"What do I need to hear?"

"Cas, at Lucifer's crypt, Meg didn't escape. She sacrificed herself to Crowley to save us."

"I don't understand."

"He stabbed her, we saw it. And we drove away. I'm sorry, Cas, buddy," Dean hung his head.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I guess we, uh, we forgot."

Cas began to turn away from them and Nat gritted her teeth, a whistling noise coming from between them.

"Look, she's alive, she came back with the others, it's all OK."

"You forgot to tell me. I cared about her and you forgot to tell me. I've had enough of being lied to. I'm going after Meg. At least she doesn't lie to me." He scrunched the sheet of paper up in his hand and began to take off down the stairs.

"Cas, wait."

"Great, there goes your attack dog," said Nat.

"Will you shut up?" Dean asked her.

"Maybe, depending on how I feel.

"He's not our attack dog," Sam said as Dean lunged out and his taller brother had to grab him by the shirt. "Dude, calm down."

"She is driving me insane."

"Dean, all woman who turn you down drive you insane. Either that or they're 'so into you'." Sam said this all in a more hushed voice to prevent Nat from hearing.

"Shut up, Sam."

"We all have problems now. You don't have to take them out on her."

"Thanks Sam. Seems you're nicer than your brother," she said. "From what I can tell, Cas seems pretty bent on finding Meg. And angry with you two."

A thought occurred to Sam. "You and Meg were in here earlier. What was she doing before you arrived?"

"I don't know, reading through some old books. Uh, that one over there." She pointed to a book which sat in the middle of the mattress, all dog eared corners and a bent spine.

Sam picked it up and began to flick through it. "She marked one of the pages."

Dean peered over his shoulder. "What's that say?"

"It's Latin. I'll get my laptop."

He took the book downstairs with him, opening up a translation programme. Dean slowly had to explain the location of their resident demon and angel when Sam held a hand in the air.

"Got it!"

"What is it? Is that my book?" Jody asked.

"Meg found something. It's a spell to make, oh my God, it's a spell to make demon blades."

"Demon blades, like the one Ruby had?"

"Yeah exactly like that. They have some ingredients back at the bunker. We'd better get back there anyway, check on Kevin, in case Crowley's been bothering."

"I'm coming too, now it's just the two of you," Jody said. "Fancy a road trip, Brandon?"

_____

"That you, Moose? I thought you were going to leave me in this bloody dungeon forever. Now let's talk_" He was cut off my a sudden pain in his chest. A bullet had been fired. A woman stepped in front of him with glowing black eyes and a grin from stretching from ear to ear..

"You're one of my demons." he yelled, alarmed.

"Was one of your demons."

"So what? You're Abaddon's bitch now?"

"Precisely."

"And she send you to do her dirty work?"

She cackled as footsteps echoed on the floor behind her. "Didn't you mean, us?" And suddenly, there was a row of angry demons standing before him, bearing their teeth.

"Didn't you hear? The Winchesters are way out of the way, leaving you in the capable hands of the prophet boy. I took him out. We're all very angry with you, the Queen's new army, they were very unhappy to hear you were in charge. But then it is quite a shock, coming back from a deep sleep to find a salesman as King."

"At least answer this one tiny question for me. How did she do it? Witchcraft?"

"Far more complicated than that. And unlucky you, not even getting the pleasure of hearing." The demon scraped a hole through the Devil's trap that had been drawn in chalk on the floor, using an old umbrella which he of course had no idea where she had picked it up. She stepped towards him and rested her hand on his chair, tilting it backwards.

"Don't you remember the legends? Of the dark days? Of what happens to demons when they die?"

"But it can't-It's impossible."

She gave him a little smirk. "Think again. They're going to save us."

"Sounds like you've got too much faith, mate."

"And that's it, isn't it? I have faith and the only faith you've ever had is in yourself. You know, I hated every minute I ever worked with you. All the bossing me around, all the using me. But I let you, because I knew that one day I would be able to use that anger to come and destroy you myself."

"So what? You can't kill me. If the legend is true, you kill me then I'll be back in a few days."

The lower demon smiled. Her lips shone with her dark pink and seductive lipgloss and she removed something from her jacket pocket. He couldn't quite make out what it was. She took another punch at his face. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you. But we know all of your dirty secrets. The young Winchester boy, he wanted to make you human. And he almost finished, didn't he? Almost completed the trial. Shame, really. Because you were desperate to be just like him. You've been injecting yourself with the stuff, haven't you. You love the rush of it through your veins. You love the idea that your heart is even beating again. Well, we're going to give into your demands."

He could now see, what the woman held between extra sharp fingernails, already stained with his blood, was a syringe. And it was filled with blood. He could smell it from where he sat. Human blood.

_____

"Hello? Kevin, you here?" Dean came down the stairs first, followed by the others. The bunker was dead silent. "Kevin? Kev- oh son of a bitch." Kevin was lying on the floor by the edge of the table, a large bruise spreading from his hairline down to his eye.

"Holy crap," said Sam.

Dean knelt beside his body, checking his neck for a pulse. "He's unconscious."

"What could have done that to him?"

"Sam, look out!" Nat screamed.

"What is it, Nat?"

"In a few seconds, a demon's gonna punch you in the face."

Sam ducked as a woman in a tight leather jacket came running at him. She fell as he moved out of her way and Sam quickly stabbed down with the demon blade.

"Behind you," she said, getting out her own gun. A demon was sprinting towards her and she fired, trying to slow it down. She pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. She was out of bullets.

"Stop, don't attack." A woman slid elegantly down the stairs, wearing a bloodstained, silk dress. Blonde hair fell to her shoulders. Her face would once have been beautiful but her eyes were bloodshot, the socket in one hanging lower than in the other, falling down a rotting cheek where the skin came away revealing raw muscle and even a glimpse of bone. Half the teeth in her mouth were gone and where they still were, they were blackened. The gums were falling away and blood was streaming out along her tongue.

The demons seized their attack and parted as she walked through the middle of them. Sam felt the blade drop from his hand. "Hello Sam," she said. Her irises vanished leaving her eyes pure white.

"Oh it feels so good to be back here again." She brushed his cheek. Everyone seemed to be hesitating or maybe they could not move, Lilith had paralysed them like Azazel had paralysed Meg.

"I love it here. Even inside this wasting girl. It's so good to talk to you again, boy king. Not so powerful without that body full of demon blood. It's alright." Her voice was silky smooth and she hissed each sentence like the snake she was. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to make things better for you. This wasn't the plan. I'm sorry for that. You were to be the prince of Hell and I was going to be so proud of you, even after death. But then, your brother came along and ruined everything. But don't worry. The Apocalypse will come again, Sam. You just have to be ready this time."

"Why are you like that?" Dean asked. "Why is your face like that? Is your vessel not strong enough to hold you?" At least his mouth was still working.

"And Dean. Not the most polite of welcomes. I'll make sure you get what you deserve too. I'm not the only one in here, I'm afraid. You see not all the demons you murdered were as strong as me and your pet. When she set us free, they couldn't make it. Had to cling on to me. All those low power demons trapped inside me, slowly being unleashed. Perhaps a demonstration would work. Bring me the older man!" she barked to one of the demons. Brandon was dragged forwards and he struggled but there was nothing he could do. He faced her with true fear behind his glasses.

"No, Dad!" Nat yelled.

Lilith put her lips over his and they fitted perfectly. A look of disgust spread over his face muscles and then it vanished as his eyes turned back. He smiled and looked back at Nat.

"No!"

"Your turn, Sam." She took his chin in one hand. Her fingers on the other hand undid the top buttom of his shirt, exposing the area below his neck and his anti-possession tattoo. And then she began to peel at the skin. Sam howled as the skin beneath turned red. But then it was gone. She held his face up against hers, spitting black smoke between his parted lips.

"Sam!"Time slowed down as he watched a dark creature take over his brother. The black began to spread in his eyes but then suddenly, he bent over, his body convulsing. He began to choke and then the demon smoke came out again, sinking through the floor. Sam looked up. His eyes were blue. The shadow of burnt, skeletal wings appeared against the wall as he extended a glowing hand.

"Zeke!" shouted Dean as he pressed the palm of his hand against the forehead of the possessed Brandon.

"Dad!" It was Nat, tears streaming from her eyes as the now fully empty vessel of her father fell to the wooden floor with his own eyes gone.

"I am not Ezekiel, Dean. My name is Gadreel."

"What the f_" Nat began as this new angel, not-Ezekiel, moved onto the next demon, setting his eyes on fire and turning his insides to mush. The other demons quickly fled, vanishing just as quickly as the Azazel-Alastair hybrid had.

Gadreel turned to look at him and his brother was no longer there."I am sorry, Dean. But I did warn you and you did not listen. You brought the demons down on us. Do not worry about Sam, though. He is still in here, with me. Now I must do what my new master has asked of me."

He crouched down beside Kevin. The angel was vulnerable to attack right now. But he knew they would not attack. Because after what he had said, Dean knew that even though he couldn't see it, Sam was locked away in there somewhere. But Dean had no idea what to do. Did he punch him in the face, try and knock him out? There was no time. As Gadreel placed his hand flat on Kevin's bruise, Nat rushed over and grabbed his shoulder.

"Sam, it's Nat. Listen to me, there's an angel inside of you. Sam? Can you hear me? The angel inside you, he's going to kill your friend. Now I need you to wake up and cast him out."

What was she doing? Whatever it was, it wasn't working, although that large hand had slowed in midair. Nat was dying inside. Her dad was dead and she could be soon, too. Sweat was trickling from her forehead, mixing with her tears and blood, one of the demons must have hurt her. But still, she carried on.

"Sam? I need you to cast him out."

Sam jerked into life suddenly, staring down at his own hands and he had control of them now. He looked over at Kevin's body, saw what he had been about to do. And then he shouted.

"Get the Hell out!" Light came out of his throat and a glimmering blue. An angel's grace. Except unlike with the demon smoke which had gone downwards, Gadreel's essence shot into the air and then they were all alone. In the emptiness, Nat began to cry, huge sobs that wracked her whole body, sending shivers through Dean's spine. Sam was taking deep, deep breaths and Nat clutched her father's body.

"Dad?" She said it as a question. But it wasn't. Because he knew he was gone.

"Sam, here_"

"Get away from me Dean!" Sam pulled himself out of his brother's grasp. "Get away from me."

_____

"Just tell me, Nat. How angry is Sam with me?"

"I can't read people's minds. But as far as I can tell, he's super pissed." She faced away from Dean, taking another swig of her beer.

"I'm sorry about your dad_"

"Stop, just stop. Yeah I get it, your whole family died. Well at least it was over quick for them. My mom is an immortal monster. I don't know where she is. I don't know what they've done to her. I don't even know if she still remembers me. It was eighteen years ago. This whole thing has been a joke. Me and dad dedicated our lives to finding her and all that time wasted. Soon I'll be dead too and then it won't be all happily ever afters because I won't see her. Ever. When she dies, she'll go to a whole different place to me. I thought maybe if I found her, we could find a cure or...never mind. It doesn't matter." She quickly changed the subject. "I know you've been trying to hit on me."

"What? I would never_"

"Oh yeah, you would never. There's something missing inside you, Dean. It might have been there once but it was taken or broken a long time ago. You can't bear to see your brother getting hurt but it just keeps happening. And it's darkening your soul. You think you can wash it away with all that booze and sex but the truth is, it's a bottomless pit. You can never fill it. You put on a smile and a brave face and crack a joke but you'll never be content."

"I thought you couldn't read people's minds." Dean muttered, mostly to himself

"It doesn't matter. 'Cause I can read you like a kids' book, Dean Winchester. I had a boyfriend like you once."

Dean nodded. It seemed like maybe he was just bad at lying. He swept a hand across his temple, letting it fall to his chin and feel the rough stubble growing there. He had not shaved for a few days now. Soon he would be growing a beard if he wasn't careful.

"You know we're gonna have to give your dad a hunter's funeral."

"I know, salt and burn the bones, the usual drill." Each word came out completely empty.

"So where are the others?" He decided it was best to leave her alone for now.

"Sam said he'd show Jody to the storage room and then he went to get some ice for his neck. He could be possessed by a demon now, you do know that, right?"

"Well I'll just have to get him the charms until we can fix him up with anti-possession marks, properly."

"He's in the kitchen now, probably. He doesn't want to talk to you."

"You think that's going to stop me?"

Her hair fell forwards onto the dining table as she dipped her head, blocking her out from him even more. "No," came the muffled reply. "Still worth a try."

Sam was lounging back in a chair in the kitchen, a pack of frozen peas pressed hard against his collarbone. The skin there was uneven, healthy running down his neck and eventually breaking off into layers, each getting a more frightening shade of red.

"Hey Sam."

Sam showed no sign that he was even acknowledging his presence. Dean sat down too, making sure not to be too close to him. His chair scraped across the tiles.

"Listen, I know you're mad with me_"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm mad at you."

"Great well it's good you're talking and letting these feelings out."

"No Dean, I've had enough!"

"I was just doing it to protect you."

"Yeah, protect me by letting an angel inside of me, tricking me to say yes to him. Again, you made a decision which you thought was best for me. It's time for me to make some of my own decisions."

"Sammy_"

"I'm not a kid anymore! I'm not your little Sammy. I can take care if myself."

"You know you would have done the same for me. If I were dying," Dean protested.

"No Dean, I wouldn't. I'm going to go and check on Crowley."

 


	10. Discovering

 

Kevin decided he was going to come with Sam down to the dungeons. Sam knew his story of what had happened while they had been gone: he had been working some more on the tablet and a woman had suddenly appeared beside him. He described her as blonde, and terrifying, he had said, wearing a white dress. And there had been something wrong with her face. There had been others with her but she had seemed like their leader. He had grabbed the nearest thing to him he could find which happened to be a lamp which was still plugged in. It had not been much for defence. The woman with blonde hair had just laughed but not spoken to him, just knocked him out straight away.

"If she wanted to kill you, she would have," Sam had told him as if that were meant to make things better.

He blamed himself for what had happened but Sam knew it was his own fault. Him and Dean had left him alone again and nothing good had ever happened while the two of them were away. Kevin had been kidnapped at one point. So that had been a mistake on their behalf.

The bruise on Kevin's forehead was still there and the skin over it was raised and beginning to swell already. But that was only a minor injury compared to Sam who had had a whole chunk of his skin ripped off.

As they arrived, their eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness. The cupboard that could be pulled aside to let them in had been hauled away and a few of the boxes that the men of letters had stacked on top had fallen to the ground and smashed.

"Dammit. They were here." From what Kevin had already told him, they still weren't sure if Abaddon had been here. But maybe Hell's current queen had decided to pay a visit. For a moment, Sam wondered if she actually had done it, if she actually had murdered her one and only rival. But then he heard a whimpering from within.

A hunched up figure had fallen into a corner, a broken chair lay beside it. The table they had seated in front of Crowley was spotted with blood, not much, not enough for someone to have died there. There was a gap in the Devil's trap on the floor.

"Crowley?" Sam asked, cautiously.

The figure gave another twitch and moaned.

"Crowley, is that you?"

"Moose?" This time he got the reply.

"Crowley, what happened?"

"They attacked me Moose." He rolled over onto his back so they could now see his eyes which appeared to be popping out of his skull. "Abaddon sent a bloody army of angry demons for me."

Sam bent down to help him up. He knew he shouldn't, not really. That tiny violent part of his brain that may have been inherited from his twisted childhood or twisted mind was shouting to just leave him there, in his pain. There was a nasty lump on his head, too, jutting out like an egg above his right eyebrow. Sam noticed that his handcuffs, also engraved with a Devil's trap, had been broken too.

"All the traps were broken. You could have escaped, Crowley." Kevin said it before him then instantly regretted his decision.

"It wouldn't have done much good. I wouldn't have gotten very far." He spat blood to the ground. "You don't know what it's like to be human."

Sam took a moment to think this statement through. "Excuse me?"

"They injected me with human blood. One of you bloody idiots must have left the Hell gates recipe lying around. They knew the spell and the charms. I'm human Moose. Just like you."

Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "You're human?" He looked into his eyes. And he was telling the truth. Well, that was what he believed the truth to be, anyway. Sam wasn't an angel, he couldn't see his true face, he could not see any difference. But then, the traps they had set him in had been Crowley's only obstacle. The second they were down, he would have been fleeing. He would have smoked out of his meatsuit or teleported his way out of there. But he hadn't. He truly was human.

"I have one final request from you." Crowley said the words slowly, letting his agony finally see the light of day.

"Uh, OK. What's that?" Sam could think of no other response right now.

"Kill me." He pointed to the demon knife, resting mockingly on Sam's belt, which Sam quickly removed. "Kill me, Moose."

Sam stared at the blade in his hands and then looked back to Crowley, still whimpering with those bloodshot eyes so full of pain.

"Kill me!"

And Sam brought the tip downwards.

"Stop!" It was Kevin. He held his hand out. "Sam, let me."

"Kevin_"

"He tortured me for a year. I know he's screwed with you, too, but nothing can beat what he put me through. He's mine."

"Kevin," how nice for you to_" Crowley began but he was stopped.

"Shut up, Crowley. I'm going to give you what you want. If you give me what I want. My mom, is she alive?"

"I think I made it very clear last time that mommy dearest is still very much alive."

"Where is she?"

"What is this, the Spanish inquisition? I left Linda in very safe hands. With a friend. There's a storage facility in Wichita. What, I didn't want to keep your own flesh and blood too far away from you, did I? It's known as Castle storage. You'll find her there. Now please, do it." He squeezed his eyes shut.

None of them saw it coming. Kevin plunged the blade into his heart, the heart that now truly did belong to Crowley and not the one that he was just borrowing. And then it was done. There was no flash of lights, no spectacular performance, no glow through his eyes as the blood stopped pumping to his brain. They had finally done what they should have four years ago. The King of Hell was dead.

_____

Meg fought against the chains. She felt like she should be putting more effort into this like she always had, kicking and screaming and swearing and spitting and trying to put the guards off. She was smarter than them. Otherwise, why would they just be guards?

But she couldn't. She just couldn't put that extra effort in. She was tired, from both the journey here and just everything, including her encounter with Azazel. And maybe she didn't want to get away. Maybe she actually wanted to stay and find out answers, provided Abaddon was willing to give them.

The chains strapped her against the wall. The perfect wall of this five star hotel, coated in thick wallpaper of stunning shades of red. But the wall didn't matter. It didn't even matter how Abaddon had managed to get the chains fixed on to the wall in the first place. She was sure they wouldn't have come with the room.

Abaddon had come back to the room. She was grinning widely, showing off those perfect red lips and those perfect white teeth. A face of beauty for a hideous monster.

"Did you ever think about what would happen after the Apocalypse? You were the one who lived it, after all. I was trapped in a time travelling closet. So tell me, what did you think would happen?"

"You expect me to answer that?"

"I expect you want to know what I have to say."

"I don't know. He told us he would take us to Heaven."

"Heaven." She laughed. "That's your idea of peace is it, that's your idea of pure happiness. Memories that make you smile for an eternity. They don't give you power, they don't make you feel special."

"What's your idea of Heaven then?"

"My idea of Heaven." She pondered this. She came to rest in a crouch, just inches away from Meg herself. "Ruling over the Earth. Rivers of blood. Humans and demons alike worshipping me."

"Of course." What else would she have expected from her? Abaddon was a being who thrived on violence and murder, purely and simply. That would be her Heaven. And yet, she was finding herself fearing her even less, fearing the woman who had controlled her childhood and made her afraid to have secrets, afraid to hold her head up high. She had tortured her, she had murdered her sister. She supposed this was what they called facing your fears. But the queen wasn't her fear, not her worst one anyway.

"Lucifer was full of crap you know."

"All leaders are. They wouldn't have followers if they weren't. A lie can be your greatest weapon."

"But that's what this is all about. You want Lucifer to walk the Earth again. I figured it out by myself if you were wondering."

"I'm surprised that was the only thing you figured out from what I was told about you. Did you ever hear the tales whispered in the deepest corners of Hell. Tales like you thought me to be?"

"Might have heard a few. They were as full as crap as my fath-as Lucifer."

"Look at your chains, what are they made from?"

"Iron." She could do nothing more now than play along with this game.

"Look at your wrists? Are they burned?"

She checked again. But her wrists were fine, a little sore maybe from how tight the cuffs were but other than that, the metal hadn't affected her skin, not one bit.

"Salt doesn't affect you, not Devil's traps either. Oh don't worry. You haven't been made human. Not like that pig, Crowley."

"Crowley's human?"

"Sent one of my best demons to do it. I would have done it myself, would have loved to see his reaction, but a woman's work is never done. I expect he's begging those Winchesters to kill him by now. But that's not the point. I've rebuilt you, you're beyond a demon now, you all are."

But salt had affected her. That line of salt in Castiel's temporary home. She hadn't been able to cross that. But then, she hadn't even tried. The same with the Devil's trap on the floor of Jody's sitting room. And Azazel and Alastair had been able to come to her, through all those protections.

"It's time for a bedtime story, Meg. Heaven, Purgatory, Earth, many others. You know, I was hand picked by Lucifer himself, in the days when the Earth was still young. He wanted to destroy but not just that. He wanted to create. When he was expelled from Heaven, the angels, they clipped his wings. They sliced them through the middle, leaving only small stumps left. He found other means of travel but he managed to get back just one part of his lost wings. A single bone."

"I didn't think angels had bones. They don't have solid forms."

"That can be true in some cases but this, this is real. And this bone was the source of all Lucifer's power. It was a creation of God after all. And he wanted to prove he could create too. There's a river that runs through Hell. It's the source of Hell's disorientation, it's a river of pain, a river of lost memories, yours too I expect. Memories of what you did both as a human and a demon. Greek mythology refers to it as Styx. Lucifer chose a new name for it though. Named after him. Well, one of his favorite names humanity chose for him. Helel."

"Hell hell? Like the Hell of Hell?"

"In some ways, you're right. The river is said to be a place worse than Hell itself. Demons die, you know that. But to him, for a demon to die was a complete disgrace. And they deserved their punishment. No matter how good or bad a demon they'd been, the river is where they are doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the River Styx and all the suffering of all the souls would soak their bodies. They would never, ever seeing the light of day again."

"So you're saying I was in this Helel, drowning memories. Why don't I remember then?"

"You're not the only one who doesn't remember. You blocked out your human life too. But none of the others can recall any of it either. Lucifer wasn't a genius creator. Like a child trying to create a masterpiece but ending up drawing a page of scribbles."

"I hate to tell you this but if I was destined to spend eternity drowning in a river of my memories, then what am I doing here?"

"There's always an escape, there's always an emergency exit. All that creation, the wing bone lost its power. So Lucifer thought that was the end. There was no way of undoing what he had done. Still, to each knight of Hell, he gave the spell, to reopen the gateway between this dimension and that. It was a language, another thing of his own creation, like the scars on your chest. That means that only I can close the gateway again. The spell isn't perfect, I'll admit. Some of you got returned to your last vessels. Others, I had to provide bodies for. That took a lot of careful planning. You saw what happened with Azazel and Alastair. I made sure yours was in perfect condition."

"Why?"

"Can't have you looking like something out of a zombie movie now could we? Crowley bound you to that body so you would automatically return to it."

"There's one thing I'm struggling to understand:  if this spell was so impossible, how did you manage to get the mystical angel bone working?"

"You can thank your dear Castiel for that. When an event happens between two dimensions, the bone is at its full power. Because that was when it was taken. When an archangel was expelled from Heaven. Another event that could power it could be, I don't know, all the angels being trapped on Earth. Speaking of the angel, her he is."

Abaddon had a set of television screens. Each showed different areas of the hotel lobby. And then, appearing in the front doorway, was a dark haired man. She could tell it was him, even without seeing his face.

"How polite. Even uses the front entrance. So much less rude than breaking in through the window," Abaddon remarked.

"Oh you featherless moron," Meg whispered to no one in particular. Why had he come? To rescue her of course. His _damsel in distress_. And now he was going to get them all killed the stupid pissbaby.

Around two minutes past before a knock came from the door. He was even knocking. For someone who had been friends with the Winchesters and survived for so long, he could be incredibly dim at times. And then, the door handle twisted and Castiel appeared. The first thing his eyes seemed to register was Meg, tied to the wall. And that was all he had time to register too, before Abaddon grabbed him by the neck.

"Castiel. Not quite as handsome as I imagined. Maybe it's that little angelic spark missing from inside you." She thrust him against the wall.

"Abaddon," he groaned as his arm edged up the wall, trying to soothe his new head injury. She scanned him and then reached for one of his pockets. "A mobile phone. Ha! Think you can call up your little friends to come to come to your rescue?" She through it to the floor and smashed it beneath her heel in one stamp. "Oh no. I make the calls. That's my job." She made a signal to one of the demons standing in the corner and then her attention turned to Meg.

"Finally," she said. "Everything is ready."

__________

They burned Brandon's body that evening, out in the field that led on to some woods that led on to who knew what. Sam built a pyre out of old sticks, some they found lying in the grass and some which Sam at his way-over-average height, had pulled down from the trees. They laid the body across the top and Nat salted it herself. And then, they set the corpse alight, the flames licked at the sky, and cast an orange hue on their faces.

They burned the one female too whom Gadreel had killed, along with Crowley. When Dean found out he was dead, he had no immediate reaction. He had given Kevin a little pat on the back but not said a word.

And when it was all gone, leaving just a burnt patch in the grass and a pile of ash over it, Nat turned away, tears in her eyes.

"You alright."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'm fine."

They went back inside then and that was when they turned back to the spell Meg had left for them. Bone. It required bone. Sam found some of that in the storage cupboard. What type of bone it was, he was not sure but certainly not human; it had a silvery glow to it. It needed all these crushed powders and leaves and tree branches and it turned out that the Men of Letters did in fact have all of these.

"So it seems like we've got everything we need. Only problem is, we need something sharp enough to penetrate the demons' bodies."

"You mean penetrate as in_"

"Shut up, Dean. We're going to have to sharpen the bones." They set to work down at the table, cutting slivers off each bone in the hopes that it might resemble a sword. And still you could feel the tension between them; every time Dean accidently swayed a little to his left, Sam would too, just to keep away from his brother, to not make eye contact or apologize if their hands accidentally collided, it was like watching a strange dance.

It was tiring work. Sam's hands grew sore and calloused. And he hadn't even made one. Kevin joined them, and then Jody until they caught Nat staring at them from the doorway. Her eyes were ringed with red and she held and empty glass in one hand while the other supported her body on the doorframe.

"I made some calls. Apparently, there is a place in Wichita called Castle Storage. They're gonna send a few people over to see if she's there."

"They? Who?"

"There's a hunters network running. You can send them on a case. Beats driving there yourself."

"What if my mom's not there?" Kevin asked.

"Whoa there, Kevin. Take it easy buddy."

"What if we gave Crowley what he wanted and he lied to us?"

"Well to be fair. you did kill him."

"I want to see my mom."

"They'll bring your mom here. So what are you doing?"

"Making demon blades. Want to help?"

"Sure. What have I got to lose?" The last line was said much quieter than the first although they were sure that they were all meant to hear it.

They worked at this for an hour, two hours, three, until it was way past late night and more like early morning. Sam wiped sweat from his forehead as he attached another bone blade to the piece of carefully carved wood. All the ingredients had been mixed in to give it its shine, he had engraved all the sigils on, now all that was left to do was speak the incantations.

They gave that job to Kevin. He raised the knives, one at a time and spoke in Latin, short cut off sentences as he stumbled over the words he was unfamiliar with. And he repeated it and repeated it. In total, they had made thirteen blades, thirteen tiny weapons against an army of raging demons. What they were about to do was suicidal. But, as far as they could see, that was what everyone in the group was, anyway.

Dean raised his beer bottle. "To our last day on Earth. Seems we've had a lot of those."

"Yeah," said Sam, incapable of answering his brother in any other way.

"Somehow, this doesn't seem like it. It doesn't seem like the right way to go out."

"It's a frickin' army of demons, Dean. What did you expect? How much bigger did you think it would get?"

"It's not about the size. It's about the-I don't know. It just doesn't feel like the end, that's all."

"No one ever expects the ending, that's why they're so shocked when it comes," said Nat as she raised her head from the table.

"Is that a quote from something?"

"No. Just made it up now. It's kinda true." She twirled her knife in her hands. "So what's the deal, these now have magic demon killing powers?"

"Pretty much."

"OK, sure." She got up again. "I'm going to sleep in one of the rooms the demons didn't trash. If we really are going to die tomorrow-or today, whatever, then I'd at least rather be wide awake." She left them.

Soon it was just the two of them alone as the others departed to various bedrooms and other rooms in the bunker.

"Sammy, can we just drop this argument. I get you're angry with me but if we're gonna die, I want us to be brothers."

Sam sighed. "I get it." He clearly didn't. "You were just watching out for me. It's what you've always done. I can't change that." They sat in an awkward silence.

"Hey, imagine if we didn't burn all of Crowley's body and some of it got left behind somewhere. We'd have his ghost to deal with." This was all a joke but the only topic of conversation Dean could think of then.

"No, I checked. And I cleaned up all the blood. He's gone, Dean."

"Yeah, well good riddance."

"Dean, you know there are gonna be hundreds of demons there. Think of all the demons we alone have killed. And Abaddon or whoever's doing this raised every frickin' one of them. And Lilith's there. We know perfectly well that a demon blade or even an angel blade can't kill her."

"Yeah, I know."

"There's only one thing we can do."

Dean pondered for a moment, trying to figure out just what Sam meant. And then, his eyes widened. He rose. "Sam, Sam no. No, it's dangerous."

"Dean, it's all we can do. But there's no other way."

"And where are we going to get that much demon blood, hmm?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll just have to improvise. Goodnight, Dean."

_____

Dean was awoken by his cell phone ringing next to his bed. He could just turn it off, ignore it, but this was important. It had to be. There was a chance that the person on the other end of the line could be some man claiming to be calling about his credit card and asking him to transfer a whole load of money to them and hoping that maybe his scam would work for once but that wasn't going to be who it was.

He picked up.

"Hello."

"Dean. It's been a while."

"Abaddon."

"I hope you and Sam like the gift I left for you. What was it like, seeing Crowley human? Were you finally happy he became one of you?"

"What do you want, bitch?"

"That's no way to talk to a lady. A require a meeting with you. At his last resting place."

"Why would I want to meet up with you?"

"I have some things that belong to you. Two, to be precise. Come and get them. And by the way, I sent your brother a snack."

"What?"

But the demon had already hung up. Dean rubbed his forehead. Sleep had come hard to him that night. He had lay on the memory foam mattress. But the duvet never seemed to be in the correct place. And neither did his mind. He kept thinking of Sam. Tomorrow was the day, tomorrow they would face this army of demons whether they liked it or not. And tomorrow, he would see his brother go insane as he gulped down gallons of demon blood. They still had not decided their source of the blood though Dean did have an idea. Abaddon had an army. And they had fourteen demon-killing knives, including the original present from Ruby. They would kill the weaker of the demons. And then, he would drink from them.

His final resting place. What could that mean? Whose final resting place? And what did she mean by resting place? And then it hit him. That was a shock. Normally, Sam would be the one to figure out riddles. He. He meant Lucifer. Because that was what this was all about. That was what Lilith had said, the Apocalypse coming again. That was the final page of the book.

Lucifer's last resting place, where his cage had been opened for the last time, as him and Michael had toppled in, wearing Dean's own brother. The cemetery in Lawrence, Kansas. That was where Abaddon wished to meet them.

And then a yell came from downstairs. It was Sam. He arrived just in time to see Sam plunge a demon blade into the neck of a third demon. There was now a pile of them, tangled on the floor, three demons. Sometimes he admired how strong of a warrior his little brother was.

"Son of a bitch," he said as he came to stand beside them. "This is what Abaddon meant by a snack."

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Abaddon called. She has Meg and Cas. And she wants to meet up with us. I guess it's for one last battle or something. And she said she sent a snack. At least this solves the demon blood problem."

Sam's eyebrows creased. "Where does she want us to go?"

"The cemetery. The one in Lawrence where Lucifer fell. She left me a riddle. His last resting place. Thought you might like that, Sammy."

"Great, sure." Sam certainly didn't make it sound like it was great. "We'll have to drain the demons and leave before she does anything to Cas...or Meg for that matter."

"It's about a four hours drive from here. I'll get started."

"I'm coming too." Nat was leaning over the railings in a sports shirt and a pair of jogging shorts, neither matching. But Nat wasn't the type of girl who would care about that.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough. I'm coming with. I have to avenge my dad. You're not gonna stop me, Dean."

"I'm not stopping you. I'm just_"

"I'm coming," she growled.

"She's coming," he repeated to Sam.

"I want the chance to kill Lilith myself, if I can."

"Only Sam can do that when he's hopped up on demon blood. I'm sorry, Nat."

"No it's OK." She was disappointed. Dean was reading her just as she had read him. "But I still have to do something to help you two."

"I thought you hated our guts."

"Yeah, sometimes I come off that way. And OK, maybe I hate Dean's guts a little. But you're good guys as far as good guys go, so how can I refuse."

"I expect Jody's going to want to come with, too."

"I'll let the hunter's network know what's happening. They won't get there in time, probably but maybe they could help clear up the splattered brains before times end for good."

Sam gave her a glare.

"Kidding, kidding. I'll go wake up the others."

_____

They were in a graveyard. Ironic that what was likely to be one of the biggest bloodbaths in history was taking place in a graveyard. Who knew, maybe the dead were betting on the odds inside their coffins. Most of them would probably be betting on Abaddon. Meg knew she would.

If Sam and Dean ever turned up, the odds were no way in their favor. They would get slaughtered the minute they stepped out of that junky car of theirs that Dean insisted on labelling 'vintage', and their heavy walking boots touched the dead soil.

A storm raged in the heavy sky. It was a heavy sky, filled with those thick, swirling clouds that could not possibly just by air. Why was their always such bad weather when something like this was about to take place?

Naturally and again, ironically, being that she had been a dead woman, Abaddon had tied her to a coffin. It was one of those ones that sticks out of the ground, for the people who are bothered on spending their money so that maybe their loved one doesn't have to rot beneath the ground like the others.

To be exact, Abaddon had tied her to the angel statue that towered over the coffin. What protection the angel could do now the soul was gone from the corpse, she had no idea. Did it make the poor human's loved ones feel more comforted now they had a stone replica of a servant of the Lord, gazing down at them every time they came to leave flowers.

She had been tied up in iron. It wouldn't do much use. Iron was safe to touch now. Iron couldn't hurt her. She was invincible. That was what Styx did to you in all those legends of the brave male soldiers. Like Achilles. Except she had not been dipped in by the heel. She had been full on thrust into Styx or Helel or whatever she was supposed to call it and left to drown.

It wasn't like she had no weaknesses. She was still tired out after the teleportation. Still tired from an event that took place a day ago. It was like Abaddon was draining her strength. But she couldn't die. She'd just pop straight back out of the river, dripping with memory juice.

The demon army were slowly assembling. Funny how just a few years back, she counted herself as a member of this demon army. She had counted herself as a special member, nonetheless, but still, a demon, fighting in a demon war. And now, what was she?

Abaddon and Lilith were at the center, standing side by side with their soldiers before them. There had to be at least a thousand here. She wondered what friendly graveyard visitors would think. But they wouldn't have time to think before they had their necks snapped.

And then she noticed, Abaddon and Lilith were not the center of the gathering after all. She was the center, her and Castiel who was tied to the angel statue beside her, this one frozen with a more cruel gaze and sharper feathers to its wings. Like an avenging angel rather than a guardian angel, a warrior. He was still out, unconscious. Abaddon had drugged him in the ride here, luxuriously in the back of a moving van. The drugs hadn't worked on Meg however, more proof that she was invincible.

Meg found herself wondering as more and more of the demons walked into formation, as Cas blinked his cerulean eyes open, revealing those irises as unpredictable and faithful as the sea, as Abaddon smiled her wicked grin, would Lucifer actually rise? And what would happen then?


	11. Regretting

 

Why did she have to be the bait? It was always the woman, tied up, waiting for the heroic men to come to her rescue, only to fall straight into a deadly trap which they would once again, heroically fight their way out of. And maybe they would be able to but those weren't the odds she was betting on for Sam and Dean. Well she was sick of that goddamn stereotype.

So technically, she was not the bait. She was the bait for the bait. That was Castiel. He was the one who the two brothers were so desperate to save after all. They didn't give a damn what happened to her. But still, she was the original bait.

She was debating now inside her head, the events that would have taken place if Cas hadn't shown up. Maybe she would have been able to fight her own way out of it. She bet she would have been able to make it to the ground level in the hotel before Abaddon caught up to her.

But why was she bothering? That had all been in the past. She was no angel, she couldn't just go back and change things and what would it matter whether she could buy herself three or four minutes. The outcome would still be the same.

And now she just hung there, completely still. Worthless, powerless, her strength gone, her power snatched from her by an evil queen. To move and just to feel that pain would let it sink in. That she could do absolutely nothing right now.

And it made her think, back to her final breaths, before she had come back and this whole crazy drama had taken place. She had lain choking on the ground. Her throat had been bursting with blood, she had been spitting the stuff out from between her broken teeth. Her face had been bruised and puffy beyond belief from all that torture Crowley and those brainless lackeys of his had put her through back in that long hard year when no one came for her. To them it had all been some stupid joke, they loved it, they loved hearing her shrieks. But she frustrated them too as she kept her head high, wore that liar's mask and gave away no information but the fake directions to the crypts.

At first she had kidded herself. She said her angel would come inside her head. She had never really needed him until then. And after a while, she gave up. She thought of escape plans. That douchebag could not keep her there forever. Eventually, he would get bored of her and when it came to that time, she would get out before he could dispose of her. But still that little spark of hope burned on until the day he finally showed up

She had never really been open to emotion before. She was like one of those teenage boys, refusing to give into their feelings. Feelings had been lame, feelings were dumb. She shouldn't be able to feel, she was past that. And maybe there had actually been a time when that had been a truth. But not now. Because she loved.

And so, clambering up from the ground, there was only one thing she could do, only one option with this strange new emotion. She had been brave though her insides had been screaming. She had smiled, she had laughed, she had thrown mean comments till the end. And then, she had died. And maybe, just maybe, she had been a little happy about it too, knowing that her unicorn had escaped.

She found herself reaching out to him now, not physically but with what ounce of strength she had left. It was a trick, more difficult than what most demons could do, like teleporting. Reaching out to another person using the mind. A form of telepathy. She had used it a little, back in the old days with Azazel's other sons and daughters as they chased down their prey, so as to sneak around communicating with each other while unheard. Again, like with teleportation, she could only do it at a close range. Which was good for now.

And she reached out to him, breathing deeply, concentrating, focusing. And sure enough, she felt his heavy eyes digging into the back of her skull.

"Meg, I wish I had not come after you, I wish I _had_ come back for you at Lucifer's crypts. You mean so much to me."

"Ooh, kinky. You certainly know how to push a girl's buttons Castiel. Are you flirting?"

"Well yes, I-I believe that could be categorized as flirting."

"You never got it, did you Clarence?" She laughed and twisted her head over towards him. Her neck ached, it was sore thanks to its bindings, it would swell once she got out of this - if she got out of this.

For a moment, their gazes were fixed on each other. Her eyes were watering. A single teardrop was making its way down her pale cheeks. Normally, she would wipe it away. But this time, she did not, mainly because her hands were tied. But there were other reasons too. This was not a tear of sorrow. This was happiness. Happiness to die in this way. "I wasn't doing any of it for Sam and Dean. You think I'd work for those jackasses? I wasn't working for some high power son of a bitch who thought he or she could take control of me. I wasn't even doing it for myself. Alright, I may have been doing it for myself a little bit. But don't you see, Cas? I find a cause and serve it. And you were my cause." Her voice cracked. "I love you."

And he nodded. "Thank you Meg. And I love you too."

She chortled. "Look at us. A sinner and a saint in love."

He shook his head. "No. You're kind of good. And I'm kind of bad. We're both sinners and we're both saints."

Their gazes were interrupted as Abaddon strode over. She was looking to the skies. And she was worrying. She was worrying about when the Winchesters would arrive, when she would be able to end their lives once and for all. But she didn't want that fear to show and she was doing a pretty good job of concealing it, too.

"Too bad. Looks like they're not coming. Shame, all that hard planning."

"Oh, they'll come." Abaddon seemed confident on that. Alright, so maybe she was not worried about when they would arrive. What was she scared of then?"

Meg gave her a smile, a weak attempt at best but the Queen saw it.

"I don't know why you're happy."

"Oh you know, just thought it was funny you needed all these other powerful demons to fight with you. Thought you wouldn't want any competition for the top spot in Hell."

Abaddon was getting angrier, she could feel it as she turned away from her. "Azazel was wrong about you. Your knowledge is vague. But you're funny. I might even like you if you lost that rebellious streak of yours. Just gets you into more trouble."

"You think you're so different?"

"Yes, because I have the power. How did Lucifer rise the first time?"

"I'm gonna play along with this game of yours, just 'cause I'm a little bored. Lilith broke sixty six seals and he rose. She's died once, not sure it works again. So what, you're gonna break another sixty six seals all in one day, here. You seem keen to get it out the way."

"Sixty six seals. Seems like such a mild achievement, don't you think?" She rubbed her fingernails against each other and stepped away. "Sixty six seals. A thousand demons. This land is sacred. Sacred to us, sacred to demons. Our father fell here, you know. And it is where he will rise again. For the last time?"

"Forgive me if I'm getting this wrong. But you're saying this army is a sacrifice?"

"Most of them will die for a good cause. That's what you believe in, isn't it? Good causes? I have the first ever demon, knights of Hell, demon army generals. All revived, their blood more powerful than ever before. But those titles don't mean anything. Because I was the one who went through all that work, I put them back together, so much hard work that anything you have done can't even compare to. Clever as the devil, twice as pretty. But soon, I will have my kingdom. Their blood is sacred. It will be enough. Thanks to you and bringing dear Cas over there to me."

What was she going to do to him? "Why would you want Lucifer back? Hate to break this to you but the Devil ain't gonna care what happens to you. He'll destroy you the instant he sees you."

"Because Lucifer is going to give his power over to me. He's old, he's done his time. The last Knight of Hell will rise once again. And every human and every demon who survives will serve me. Will serve us. That's right, Meg. I want you to rule beside me."

"You know you can be a real joker sometimes. Why would I want to rule beside you?"

"You've always had to live in the shadows of others, your fathers and mothers, those men who bossed you around. Sam and Dean never listened to you, neither did Azazel or Crowley or Lucifer. And yet, you outsmarted them every single time. He has to die of course." She gestured towards Cas who was fighting against his own binds now, trying to reach for Meg. "Your poor lovesick human, just what we need on the kill list to bring back our father. But no need to worry. A year from now, you won't even remember him."

"What?" she yelled as loud as she could though it came out as no more than a whisper.

"Being around humans had made you weak and sympathetic. Time with a sister will be good for you."

"Why would you tell me all that, reveal your secret plan to me?"

"Ha. Because, no one's going to hear you scream." She swept her hand over Meg's lips and she thought she smelt something, a lovely rose perfume which had lightly covered her fingertips. To cover up the stench of blood. And then, Meg's voice was gone, just like that. This power of Abaddon's it had stolen almost everything left of her. And she was going to drain Lucifer's strength, just like how she had drained that of her.

Abaddon produced a piece of cotton from inside her jacket, removing it slowly at first and then forcing it around Meg's nose and mouth and tying it tightly at the back of her head.

That was when the music began. Faint, far off even but slowly growing, volume increasing. It was a rock song, one by Kansas, Meg thought though she had never been that keen on their music. She had always been more of a punk and pop music girl. The words rippled through the air: _Carry on my Wayward Son, there'll be peace when you are done._

She now saw the impala appearing on the horizon, slowly moving forward, meter by meter. Personally, she would have preferred to see some of the sons of bitches knocked over. It sure would have been more of a dramatic entrance. But the demons were stepping out of the way.

Dean had the windows open and was blaring the music. Nat was leaning out of one of the back windows, hair whipping against her solid cheekbones, sweeping behind her in the wind. She had on a pair of dark sunglasses, masking her eyes.

_Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more._

There was a pause, long, empty with only the whistle of the wind. The wind was breathing, it was waiting, waiting to see if along with them, the element itself would make it through the day or if it would be wiped out eternally. A droplet of rain spattered against Meg's skin and she shivered, letting the cold envelope her.

And then the battle commenced. Dean was out first, he held a gun in his right hand, a knife in his other. He was firing, over and over and over again but not accurately. He was glancing over his shoulder. His brother, with his long hair, had a plastic container, the kind that they would use to carry gas or oil, gallons full. He ripped off the lid and began to choke down the contents. And it was red. Red and sticky, getting caught in his hair, most of it not even reaching its destination but slithering off his clothes and into the ground instead: demon blood.

He finished the first and Jody speedily dumped a second in his hand. She had an axe and Meg watched as she sliced through the neck of an approaching demon, disguised as a young and athletic man. From the distance, Meg could only see the sheriff's lips move, an apology. And then, the head rolled to the floor in a, cut from its stump unevenly. The eyes stared at their body and it turned upwards, revealing the bone jutting outwards. The man was dead. And then, the demon smoke came from the mouth, covering Jody. She could just make her out, swatting it away: no use. Jody's eyes were black.

"Meg!" Nat called out, upon spotting her. She raced forwards just a few paces and yet she was panting, out of breath. She carried a knife in each hand, a demon blade. So they had found her message then. The small woman glanced quickly down at her hands and without thinking, tossed one of the blades over. Nat was a good shot. It landed on the surface of the coffin but before Meg's feet could nudge it closer to herself, it skittered from the stone, back to the ground.

Nat gave a deep sigh. She had already gained interest from the demons that had spread into an arc around her.

Meg watched the blade  twist around, uselessly in the grass. That was all she could do to it now, make it move around a bit in a desperate attempt to come to her hand. But of course, nothing happened.

The sounds of a running motor came from the entrance to the cemetery as a truck came driving in. It was painted a dirty green, the windows up and blocking any attempt to see the driver or a single passenger. Tarpaulin was stretched over the back and as it came to a rather unexpected stop, a girl of a little younger than Nat, hopped off and then excitedly bounced up and down where she had landed as she surveyed her surroundings, before turning and helping an older woman from one of the front doors. The woman tried to push her away, denying the fact that she needed the help and she actually seemed alright on her own. And then came a man from behind her, a man who they mistook for another woman at first; his hair had been tied into a greasy and slightly gray ponytail. His waistcoat was made of leather and at least five sizes too big for him so that it hung down his thighs. It was followed by two more cars.

The new arrivals were hunters. She had no idea how they had found them. She had no idea how they knew the battle was going to be right here, right now, though she assumed it had something to do with Nat. The important thing was that it was no longer two hundred fifty demons for each of the able to fight humans.

She found Azazel and Alastair among the demon crowd and they all moved away in fear to let it through. The two of them looked more terrifying than ever, each muscle that moved radiated authority. He had no idea of Abaddon's plan for him. His clothes were already red. She had no idea how. There had been barely any bloodshed yet. And he was making his way towards Dean.

Dean aimed his weapon again. Nothing came out. Guns were useless anyway, what harm could they do to a demon, other than slow him down? Or slow it down. Slow down this monster that Lilith created and it was a monster, the monster of his childhood that had ruined his family and that monster that had made four decades of death such a traumatic experience that he still had nightmares. But that was the point of Hell. Except no one was meant to escape. For a minute, eh wondered about Meg because she had gone through the same as him, she too had been one of his play toys. Except her torture had been longer. And she had not gotten out. His eyes flicked towards her, tied to that angel statue. It was hard to tell from a distance but she appeared to be rolling her eyes. He instead focused on his target and reloaded the pistol, firing once more.

"I missed you Dean," the Alastair side of the face hissed. "We are going to have so much fun together once I'm through with you. Oh yes, I'm going to drag you back to Hell and get rid of that pretty face of yours permanently so that you end up with a new look, just like me."

"Mommy would be so proud of you wouldn't she? And dear John, too?" The other demon spoke instead now, laughing in his face as he came closer. "Standing up and being a brave hero, it was just what your daddy wanted. Shame that pride won't last when he sees what you become."

_____

Meg's leg strained one more time and then fell out of the rope. That was all she had been able to do so far. She was in a little of a sticky situation. She couldn't call out, she was silenced, but even if she could what help would that do anyway? Sam was too busy focusing on obliterating those demons, of course, only bringing the rising closer. Without Jody, he was now attempting to lift the bottles himself, not so easy when he was high on the very thing contained. And he was managing it pretty damn well.

Castiel was looking up into the sky for reasons unexplained. Though she could guess. He didn't want to see his friends die. He was waiting for his own death. And as a form of torture, Abaddon was going to make him wait until the very end, until everything he loved had come crashing to the ground, before she took his life. Everything he loved except for her.

She was angry now. Angry at herself, angry at her angel, angry at Sam for making Lucifer rise the first time (even though back then, that had been what she wanted), angry at Abaddon and her endgame, angry at Dean, at Nat, at Jody, at Kevin. Especially angry at Crowley. Thank every God ever recorded that he was dead, may his human soul rest forever in Hell's darkest corners. And angry at the world, angry at her stupid fate in being that one character who started off evil and then begins to discover how beautifully dumb her life (or in this case her afterlife) is, through the power of love. And as sad and completely lame as it was, that was exactly what had happened.

And then the blade rose. It was a slow ascension from the ground to her hand. It kept stopping in mid air, wobbling around and almost dropping but Meg kept focusing. Finally, she found herself gripping it tightly. She sliced through the bindings on her wrist first, not minding as the serrated edge grazed and broke her damp skin. She moved on to her waist and chest and as the ropes came away, she toppled slightly forwards but regained her balance and bent to cut the ropes on her feet. Finally, she untied her gag. The foul stench of blood hit her straight away, the taste was in the air. The battle had begun.

As she was scrambling away, she turned. Castiel was still tied up and he had seen her and she could have sworn he seemed delighted. She gave a sigh.

"Dammit. I'm not gonna leave you behind, Cas." She climbed onto his tombstone, ignoring the strain on her arms, and cut him down too.

A demon in the form of a pretty blonde woman, ran straight towards her and then stopped in her tracks.

"Can't kill me, can you? No, I'm guessing you're under strict orders from Abaddon not to lay a finger on me." It was a shame she could not harm them either or she would just be helping with the demons' great plan. But one demon would not hurt.

The possessed girl began to run but even in her state, she was faster. She used her knife and drove it into its heart. She pushed in further and felt as there was no more bone for the knife to break through, as the blade came out of the other side.

She kicked the body aside. "Have fun," she muttered although at the same time, she found herself staring at those useless eye sockets, seeming to glare at her. Was that what she had looked like, rotting as Crowley turned and walked away? Was she feeling remorse? Was this what it was like.

_The repentant sinner should strive to do good with the same faculties with which she sinned._

If this was her repentance then she was sure as Hell going to save some lives today. Another demon, ran straight into her, completely unready, and she slammed him away to the floor, approaching where Dean was being attacked by Azazel and Alastair. Suddenly, she slipped over, landing face first in mud. And it was clearly not an accident.

"I'll be with you in a second my dear," said Alastair, coldly to her without turning around. He pushed Dean up against a gravestone. "My knife's been dying to see you again too, Dean."

Meg picked herself up from the mud, wheezing with the pain driven on by the muscles in her leg as she struggled to push herself back up. Castiel was not much use to her at the moment, Abaddon had pulled the same stunt on him but yet he helped her back to her feet. She felt the tension in his shivering arms as she pulled her wrists from his grasp.

A group of demons were now circling them, all menacingly licking their lips. Meg twisted her newly acquired blade around in her hand, holding it at the ready.

There was a mighty gasp, a man, towering every single one of the demons, was pushing through them. There was blood on his face, his clothes, every inch of his skin and it took all of them a moment to recognize it as Sam.

He stood behind the monster that held Dean until it sensed he was there and turned, its yellow eye and white eye widening in turn.

"LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!"

 Meg knew the second she saw what Sam did that this was more demon blood than he had ever taken before. Forget the Apocalypse, forget his time with Ruby. He had filled his body with it, drunk enough of it that it filled his oversized sack of skin to burst.

He raised a hand towards the monster and it exploded.

"Oh you giant dumbass."

Meanwhile, Sam's attention had moved from the remains of Alastair and Azazel. Veins were showing on his face, etching across the skin that was so much paler than usual, like porcelain, so fragile and soon to crack to pieces.

"What do you know? He's gonna bring on another Apocalypse from destroying demons. His sad life story."

"What are you talking about, Meg?" Castiel asked her. He would only have heard snippets of Abaddon's talk to her, too busy as he struggled to get away to bother listening.

"Didn't you hear? A thousand demons die today and we're look at complete chaos," she said this with a stony face. "I'll tell you the rest later. Our main mission now is getting through to him before he makes all of them explode like that."

"A demon tried to possess him back at the bunker! Lilith ripped away his anti-possession tattoo. But he had an angel inside him already." Nat looked slightly to her left. "Long story. He went around smiting people, including...well let's just say I managed to get through to Sam, the real Sam and make him get control of himself and realize what he was doing."

"What I've wanted to do for years," Meg added.

"Nat, can you do it?" Cas asked her.

"No, he's too far away. I can't reach him."

Meg exhaled. Her hair was sticking to her forehead as the rain pounded down harder. "I'm gonna regret this." She unsheathed her knife from where she had carefully tucked it into her studded belt so as it would not easily fall away in the action of the battle. And then, she poked the tip beneath the lilac cloth of her t-shirt. She felt around, just a little, finding one of the older scars, one of those from Crowley when he had marked his runes onto her to stop her escaping as she was under his care. She let out another short breath and then sliced.

She felt it all at once: the pain, the startling burst of pain erupting through her chest as the blood began to stain through the fabric but also the freedom at knowing that now she could go anywhere, do anything she pleased, get away from this hellhole for good. But she wasn't going to do that. Today, she would be the saviour in whatever way she could.

"Get ready to catch me," she said to no one in particular. And then she opened her mouth.

Escape felt good. She had no body anymore, she was a weightless cloud of gas, spiralling over the ground. She felt free. It had been nearly three years since she had left her old sack of skin, even if only temporarily.

 When she was like this, she had no eyesight in a literal sense. Instead, she was left with what you might call a heat sensory, like what some snakes had. It meant she could tell where there was a human, a possible vessel to use.

It was not hard to spot Sam. His body was raging at what must be more than twice his regular temperature. And he was facing down Lilith. Sam would not be a likely vessel, not at this point. For most demons, to hear the idea that the boy with the demon blood was no longer protected, they would all be swooping in to wear him as their meatsuits. It still made her a little happy to think she had been the first to come up with that. But a demon going in there now, inside his head of woven misery, swarming with demon repellent, it was certain death. Which was why this was up to her. At least she could talk to him before he crushed her with his immense power.

So she smoked her way in, straight through his mouth. She did not take full control. That wasn't the idea. So she hid in the back of his mind. Sam's mind was complicated, it always had been, even when she possessed him the first time, all those years ago. His brain had taken on the appearance of a library, that had not changed since then but it had expanded. Last time, Sam's library had seemed more homely. There had been photos along some of the small bookshelves, photos of him and Dean, of him and his dad, of him and his girlfriend. But the photos were gone. Instead, the bookshelves stretched on for miles, as far away as she could see. And they were tall, tall enough that she could not see a thing over them. He was lost.

She tried to relax into the chair his mind had created but it was hard, difficult to get yourself comfortable.

_Heya Sam._

_Meg, what are you doing inside my head?_ His indistinct voice was echoing off the bookshelves in an innocent tone.

_Haven't been here in a while. You've redecorated. I don't like it._

_What do you want?_ This time, his words were clearer, filled with annoyance. She was wasting time and she knew it.

_Well jackass, other than you bringing on the second Apocalypse out there, things are as sweet as cherry pie._

_Wait, you're saying I'm setting Lucifer free?_

_You think? Why else would Abaddon want you here, right where you opened his cage in the first place? You're gonna be responsible for the end of the human race. Again. The demons you're gonna destroy are the sacrifice._

_Well what do I do? They're going to kill Dean._

_Thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Figure something out and it better be quick._

She felt herself thrown forwards and Sam's voice all at once vanished. A book collapsed open in front of her and as she struggled to get herself sitting back upwards, she felt words flying off the page.

_"I was the best of those sons of bitches! The most loyal!"_

The books were Sam's memories. And this memory related to now, somehow. Sam was being attacked and of course, he was unable to stop it. Each demon he killed was only adding onto the scales. And soon, those scales would tip. She had hoped she would not have to do this.

She took control. Sam was protesting, not realizing what was happening but even with only the beginnings of her strength coming back, she was still more in control than him. He was burning up, his head was on fire, it took all her essence to even quench the fire a little. And as his muscles became hers, she looked through his eyes as she drove down his hand that was now hers. It was larger though and she could feel all of the energy it was channelling. She was tall, the ground was far below her. And she was staring into Jody's black eyes as the possessed hunter wrestled against Sam's body.

The demon could tell the minute that Meg took over. She resisted a little less. She flashed her a grin and Meg returned it, showing her true eyes.

"Rose, it's been a few centuries since I saw you last."

"For you, maybe." Her voice came out deep. "While you were locked away in Hell. Don't call me that."

"I heard, you like to go by Meg now. Sam didn't trust you very much back when I knew him. Still, he thought about you an awful lot."

"So you gonna get it over with, kill Sam and me in one go, get revenge from the old days? You weren't so much of a screamer when I tortured you. You back to working for Lilith? I always thought we had a thing."

"Much as you put me through Hell, I'm not gonna kill you, or that dumbo. The case is the same now as it was then. "

"I don't remember there being much of a case about anything. I used the knife on you and you spilled your lies."

"Well lying always does get you the best of things, especially when you have no soul. I don't give a damn about her anymore. I know about you and Castiel."

"And you want to slice me to pieces. You sure are getting the talking going first."

"You always assume the worst in people, _Meg._ I already said, I'm not going to kill you. I died. Again. And this time it wasn't to the hands of people who were scared of me because I could throw balls of fire in the air. Dying changes you. The same way surviving a heart attack might change you."

"Not sure I understand what you're trying to say to me."

"You're going to be an inspiration to all the demons who still remember what it's like to be human, who don't want to be pawns being used by the King and Queen. I need you to pretend to exorcise me."

"You know I couldn't pull that. I don't have that power. The demons wouldn't believe it for a minute."

"You know I taught Sam all his tricks as well as all yours. With all that bitch juice inside him, he can exorcise whatever the hell he wants. They'll believe it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Live with what I believe in. Maybe go find a few familiar faces I've been dying to see. I'll save your friend, she is your friend, isn't she? And maybe we'll meet each other again. Now do it."

Meg extended her hand towards the demon, the demon who had been both her friend and her enemy, the demon who had been stabbed to death as just a minor statistic for following orders. The smoke rose out of Jody's body, not by Meg's doing. She was letting this one demon go. And now it to was her time to go.

Sam's skin crawled as Meg abandoned his body. He was fully conscious, watching the smoke from his own mouth as it transferred to the woman slumped on the ground in the distance. The demon possessing Jody had now gone, using Sam's power, Meg had exorcised her, he had seen that, but now a new one of them was closing in around him and he fought against the urge in his brain to make them implode inside their vessels. He was in control again. And then Dean pressed his blade into its back. This one died right away with an open mouth. Dean grabbed hold of Sam before he could fall forwards onto his knees.

"It's OK, Sammy. I've got your back. I always will."

_____

Meg woke up even colder than she had been before, with Cas holding her in his arms. He had his hand over the wound on her shoulder and she could still feel the blood pumping there though now a scab had mostly formed over it. Still, in reopening the scar, it appeared she had cut quite deep.

On feeling her breathing again, his hands loosened. He had been gripping her around the waist. Nat and a few of the other hunters who had recently arrived were standing at her side. One of them, their face unseen, was thrown to the ground. There was not much blood spilt as their neck was split, not as much as there should have been. Because the hunter had not been putting up much of a fight. He couldn't. He wasn't allowed to hurt a single one of them.

"Give me my knife, Clarence." She said. Abaddon was making her way over, through the midst of the battle which she appeared unscathed from.

Cas planted the blade in her hand though he seemed worried. She was strong though now, at least a little stronger. She had taken a little of what energy Sam had in him, thanks to the demon blood, to help both him and her. She stood and charged forwards, only to have a hard slap applied to her face. Abaddon raised her in the air by the throat, her sharp claw like hands feeling like they were cutting off her lungs. She needed no air of course but she preferred fighting when her bodies were in a vaguely alright state.

"Should have known you would escape. And helping Sam out with his issues. Sure would make Azazel proud if he were still here. Well played. It's a shame, I was going to let you live. Now I guess I'll just have to let you be a part of the sacrifice, seeing that you let that risen soldier of Lilith go free." And then Abaddon screamed, her face flashed an orange, revealing the skeleton she inhabited underneath. Dropping Meg, she turned and she could just see the handle of a demon knife sticking out of a spot in her back, a little to the left of where her spine should be. And behind her stood Nat, her hands now empty.

Abaddon carelessly gave a tug on the knife and it fell away.

Silly girl. You thought you could beat me. I have years of experience, in battle. You think you're psychic. You've got nothing on me."

Nat began to run but she was thrown to the ground as Abaddon used her telekinetic abilities on her. The small girl was squashed on the ground and she felt just like these dead bodies, so unable to help out in any way as the battle raged on around her. Abaddon pressed a hard boot onto her shoulder blade, wracking pains all through her chest.

"I know all your sad little pain. How you could never save your poor dear mother. All that pain you felt as she was taken from you. And just this week, you lost two more loved ones. Not only your daddy. Another too, who meant almost as much. I'll make sure you don't end up with them where you're going." Her hard heel scraped down Nat's cheek and she flinched. "Don't worry, I'll make it quick for you as I take away all that special mind reading power."

But suddenly, the red headed woman was knocked out of the way, revealing a smiling brunette woman in a navy jacket. She spat out a clump of blood and leaned over the body, examining it as it twitched, trying to recover.

"Figured you need some help."

"Thanks Meg," Nat replied, voicing her gratitude. Then she bent to look at Abaddon. "No one talks to me like that except my mom."

A small object had fallen from the Queen's pocket, it was tiny, no bigger than her thumb. Abaddon's hand was reaching for it, just not making it quite far enough as it lay sprawled in the dirt. The fall had knocked the breath out of her.

Nat plucked it from where it had fallen but barely had time to examine it. A glow illuminated her skin, illuminated her face and there was a moment where she just held it in the air. In that moment, all the world seemed to shift before them in a great blur of movement, the ground beneath the feet of the two women and the third of them as she proceeded to get herself up, the storm in the sky raging and raging and then vanishing as if it had been a warm Summer day all along.

And they looked around themselves. For everywhere, some packed closely together, others spread apart, some in the action of helping each other, some fighting, some midway through falling, every single demon who they could assume had been brought back, froze like a statue. Every demon except Meg.

Nat breathed the first as she took a step forwards. "What the Hell?"

"Stole the words right outta my mouth," Meg replied. The other demons, those who had never died in the first place and been brought by the spell, were already fleeing, ignoring their orders, ignoring how desperately they wanted to see their King again, they took off, leaving their vessels or vaulting over the shrubs that walls the field. And then Abaddon arose to her feet. She gave them a stunning smile that could almost have fooled both of them.

"I could tear the two of you apart right here. But just this once, I'm gonna show you a little kindness. This isn't over." They felt strong gusts of wind, tugging at the skin of their faces and as it returned to that normal breeze from earlier, the Queen of Hell had vanished.

"A lotta' strange weather today," Nat then remarked.

"Tell me about it."

Then came the moans. The moans of the hunters. There had been more of them than Meg had thought, they had packed each vehicle with far more passengers than it could take. Adding to the Winchesters, Nat and Jody, there had to be at least thirty of them here. But they had still been heavily outnumbered.

A little boy, why had they brought someone so young to the fight? He was crouching over the body of the elderly woman Meg had seen leaving her truck earlier. But by definition, she was no elderly. Late fifties, early sixties, it was still too early to go. Not in a way this unnatural. But death was a part of life. Meg noticed that she felt a little sorry for her. One of her eyes had been bad. All scars were practically invisible to how it had been caused but that one eye, on the left, was a milky white like the accident had happened a long time ago. Her other eye was blue. A washed out blue because the life was gone from it.

There was a skinny, black man with a shaven head in his thirties, an average sized, white man with glasses in his forties. A genderless person in their early twenties. They had no names, just their faces, just their descriptions. Along with Brandon, they were the hunter casualties of the battle against the demons of 2013.

Meg, Nat and Cas walked passed each of them. Nat had her eyes closed, she was steadying herself on Cas' shoulder but he was not looking much either, if he did occasionally glance downwards, it was with deep shame and regret.

They traced their way through the maze of the statues of the undead demons and the empty vessels of the demons who had fled.

A girl was helping Jody along. She kept asking her if she was alright and Jody was trying to shout though her throat was sore. Her hands were bloody too because those hands had killed some of these people, some of these people who could have been her friends. But it hadn't been her that killed them. It had been the demon.

As they reached the parked cars, Nat saw the man with the ponytail again. He made his way to the truck, the first truck, the one he had ridden there in. And then this man held the car door open one more time, before it could slide shut again. This revealed their final passenger. It was another woman, middle aged, Asian with black hair that had been chopped about halfway down her neck. She was small compared to the others and she turned, staring right through them before her eyes lit up as they came to rest on the impala.

"Kevin!" And then she was running, they felt her excitement brush against them as she passed them, their eyes followed her as she wrapped her arms around the teenage boy the second his feet came to rest on the ground. Up until then, he had been hidden in the backseat, unknown to Meg's knowledge.

"Mom," he said back to her as she finally gave him air to breathe. So that was Kevin's mother, the one he had shown her in the picture on his phone. She looked different. Maybe that was the dirt and the bruises she hadn't had time to fix or wash off in her enthusiasm to get here, to see her dearly beloved son.

"Did Crowley hurt you?" the young prophet then enquired. "He said-he said you were dead."

"Oh Kevin," she sobbed.

"You must be Natasha," said Ponytail-man. She could trace a French lilt in his accent.

"You're from the hunters network."

"I am indeed." He shook her hand and Meg shuddered a little, wondering just if his skin was as oily as his hair. His gaze shifted to the right and seeing her, he gave a look of distrust before turning back to Nat.

"Met your father a few times. He's a good man. Is he_"

"Demons," Nat said automatically. "And one angel."

"You alright?"

She nodded with painful desperation. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good." Her eyes met with the floor.

"Well I'm sorry for your loss. We received some of your messages. I was there to rescue the woman herself. She is not a hunter is she?" Each word he spoke was so slow, so calm, his speech taking its time.

"Not that I know."

"It is a shame. She would have made a good one of us. There was one demon guarding her there. His boss had taken many prisoners. Most of them had been killed. But Mrs Tran would not give any information to them. We let her kill her torturer herself. She is tough."

Linda was still hugging Kevin and sobbing, letting his head rest in her chest. She pushed his face away and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Do you remember how long you used to have it?" she asked him. "The last time I saw you, you had it all cut off. It looked nice. And now it's all growing back again." And then, she let him go. Kevin led her over to the others.

"Mom, this is Nat and Castiel. You've already met him."

"The angel who took care of my son?"

"No I'm-I'm not an angel anymore," Cas replied.

"And this mom, is Meg." Kevin pointed towards her.

"Kevin told me about you," Mrs Tran said. "Crowley kidnapped you and him."

"Great, another member of the anti-Crowley club. Lucky for you, he's dead now."

"How did you know?" Kevin asked.

"Abaddon told me." She crossed her arms.

"Mom, I killed him, it's over."

Mrs Tran looked at him, looked deeply into his eyes, and then she hugged him again.

"Sam, Sammy, you OK?"

"Dean, I can cope. It's fine, I'm good." He bent over, his back shaking and his spine quivering, and retched all over the grass. A thick liquid filled with clumps of God knew what, mixed with the green and the brown, turning the mud soggy as his stomach emptied itself.

"It's OK, Sam."

Meg jogged over, steadying herself with two arms which were slightly out to the sides in what looked like a little of an awkward position. She held the handle of her stolen knife between her teeth as she pulled the zip up on her jacket and Sam noticed a gap between them. One of the demons had probably knocked it out. She caught him staring.

"What? I've had worse."

Dean was helping Sam to his feet and all three of them steered clear of the spreading pile of vomit between them.

"Are you assholes done?" she asked. She noticed no one was replying as they looked behind her and swiftly, she turned to, her hair falling back over her right shoulder. Cas was staggering towards them, the look of someone who had just awoken from a deep sleep in his eyes and just a hint of a smiles above his newly-shaven chin.

"Meg." He said and then: "Sam, Dean. We did it. We stopped Lucifer rising."

"Well this is all fantastic," Meg said with just a little sarcasm. "Woo hoo, you've survived another angsty day."

"Meg," he said her name again, becoming more determined every time. "Meg, I meant what I said to you back there. I-I do love you."

"Oh come on, really?" Dean said as Meg embraced Cas, taking him by complete surprise. His hands were in the air, caught between a reflex to bring her in closer or push her away. Finally, his long fingers settled on the back of her neck, tangling in a confused way within her hair, only making her kiss more passionately.

Meg was drinking him in, her lips walked their way down to a spot beneath his own which were sealed tightly together. She felt his bones in his jaw, moving along with hers. And slowly, she found herself regaining her energy.

Meanwhile, his hands had found their way down to her shoulders. She felt him pausing then, all motion within his mouth finally freezing. He had found one of her scars, one of the ones Crowley had made. And he pulled away.

"I never really understood, all that he did to you."

"A few scars ain't gonna set me back."

"Meg_"

" Clarence wait just one second. Where've those two gone?"

Cas spun around. The space where less than thirty seconds ago, Sam and Dean had been standing, was empty. The grass was trodden in though the red liquid still remained thankfully untouched. But still they were gone.

Nat hurried over, appearing from behind one of the graves with sweat trickling from her forehead and a black eye. Her mouth widened a little as she saw the two of them but she passed them, quickly. She knelt down where the brothers had been, sniffing the air a little and then frowning. Her forehead creased like she were trying to pick up a smell of some kind.

"An angel was here and he took them."


	12. Protecting

"OK. Uh, there is only one way I know of calling angels. I'm not really familiar of this procedure. I um, I need assistance." Castiel sat on the bed with his two hands pressed together. He closed his eyes. This was praying. This was what he believed humans did to pray. He need to get in contact with Hannah. He needed her, her and the other angels to help him against Metatron.

"Hannah?" He tried another position, folding his legs over and putting two fingers together on each hand. Perhaps this was correct. He shuffled around a little more, trying to get himself comfortable. He called out Hannah's name but nothing. He remembered himself as an angel in recent years; he had always tried to answer when he was called by Dean or Sam though there had been a while when he had been afraid of approaching Sam for if he had found out the truth about any of his secret plan for opening the gate to Purgatory. And even before that, before he had known either Winchester brother, he had answer, had he not? Not face to face but somehow he had found ways to communicate with the human and let them know he was there.

Still, Hannah did not show up. What if she were gone? What if Metatron had recruited her? Or worse, what if he had killed her? He had taken a liking to her, the angel warrior. He laid his head down on the pillow. Were all the brothers and sisters who cared about him really gone?

_____

Since the arrival of all the various hunters in their vintage cars and wild west trucks, in the early afternoon, the bunker had been transformed from a haven of research and knowledge into a popular nightclub.

The hunters had called in more hunters to bring back the demons from the battlefield and try to find a way of disposing of them, now like statues or realistic waxworks for one of those tourist traps in Times Square. They were unsure how long whatever spell Nat had cast would take effect for. Meg just hoped long enough to lock them away where they belonged.

Jody had found the tequila first. That was what everyone needed after that morning's events. And then she found the shot glasses in the cupboard. They weren't real shot glasses, they had doubted the Men of Letters would think alcohol rational. But they had never had to battle hellspawn, locked up in here, reading books.

The little glass containers looked more like candle holders. When Meg asked about them, Jody just winked at her before filling up her first glass at one of the expensive dining tables.

She grinned over at Kevin. Him and his mother, Linda, were still in the process of a family reunion. This must be the tenth time she had hugged him though now, there were no tears in her eyes. Maybe her tear ducts had dried out from all that crying. She didn't seem like the type of woman who would cry so much, maybe her body was unprepared for it.

Most teenage boys would look embarrassed at their so much affection from a parent but Kevin was smiling too, and not just as an attempt to make her happy and leave him alone. She kissed him on top of his head, hard for her since he was about a head taller than her so she made him crouch down first. Then she gestured in the upstairs direction before leaving him. Kevin looked around the room for what he could do now. Over against the wall, some hunters were dancing, arms wrapped around each others' waists and swaying from side to side to the slightly inappropriate rock music. Dean's, she assumed. Both of them were clearly drunk, she had seen them over at the makeshift bar quite a few times now, and they would laugh then cover their mouths.

She guessed they had lost people today, like everyone. She wouldn't call herself lucky to survive, Abaddon had wanted it that way and she suspected there had been an order to not harm her. She hated to think of the fate of the demon who did.

Sam and Dean of course had that literal Devil's luck, of just surviving every time, and even that had not worked out as that angel had run off with them. Meg knew she probably should have warned Sam about that, after she overheard that conversation of theirs'. Nat and Kevin had both filled her in on everything that had taken place while she had been held hostage. It was a lot to happen in just a matter of twenty four hours.

And these were the survivors; some broken, dysfunctional drunks in plaid shirts, filling their losses by trying to poison their blood. Sometimes, she counted herself lucky for being one of them.

Kevin finally made his way over to her.

"Tough day, huh Kev? Fancy a drink?"

"But the legal drinking age_"

"Come on, you hack into government sites every day. What's one glass of, three years early, gonna do?"

"I'm seventeen."

"Four years early, whatever. Make the best of life while you still have it around those two. Hey Jody, another two over here."

"Now you listen to me, young lady, I'm not your bartender."

"You are tonight."

"I got possessed by a demon today and you expect me to keep bringing you drinks?."

"Uh huh." As Jody swept away, she turned to speak to Kevin again. "So you alright now your mom's safe?"

He nodded. "Yeah. But I'm worried about Dean and Sam. What if Metatron were to hurt them?"

"You humans are never happy. Demons, we go with what we have. You've gotta know, the world is never going to be perfect. You can shut the damn gates of Hell and lock all of us creepy crawlies out of the world but we're gonna sliver our way out eventually. And you'll still have your monsters."

"Yeah I know. I just expected...my life to be perfect. I never wanted to be best friends with two psychopaths or going out drinking with a good demon. I didn't even want to know there was such thing as demons. My mom and I should never have been involved in any of this."

"Might as well stop bitching. You're never gonna escape the hunter life. Winchesters thought they could their whole lives and look at them now. The perfect live don't exist, kid. I'm just giving you the truth as it is." She downed her drink, letting the cold liquid trickle down her throat.

The time passed. People came and left the bar until she was alone and even Jody had begun to pack away. She had spent many a night hiding among humans and hiding from the demons, in bars. Every type of bar out there: country bars, sports bars, gay bars. She had won every drinking competition in the book, beating the champions by ten. It would take her twenty before she would even feel anything. There was no particular reason for why she drunk. Pleasure perhaps or just that little feeling of rebellion, that little glee as her body refused to react to the alcohol.

She was similar to Dean, with her once-loyalty to the demon she dared call father and her selling her soul to save her sister. He drank to get himself through the day. That was not why she did it.

"Got room for once more?" There was no mistaking Nat's voice as she approached. Meg didn't think she had seen her all evening.

"Sorry, Nat. I'm just closing down," Jody replied to her.

"Come on, Jody, just one drink. I'll be quick. How long you think it will take me? Help a girl in mourning."

Jody muttered with a little grin on her face as she filled up another of the candle holders.

Nat leaned an elbow on the bar. Her face was close to Meg's. She could smell her sweat and now the tequila on her breath. She slammed the glass back down on the surface.

"You've had your one drink, Nat."

"I'm tryin' to make polite conversation. Give me five minutes." Then she looked back at Meg. "I wonder how many last drinks I'll get. I was pretty sure I was gonna die today. Thanks for saving me by the way."

"Heard what happened to your dad. You're taking it surprisingly well."

"What?"

"It's just I've seen girls like you crying for years. And from what I saw of the two of you and what you told me, he was a good dad so it's not like there's a reason why you wouldn't be sad."

"Believe me, I'm sad about it. I'm practically dying inside. But I'm not gonna ruin tonight for the others. We lost people today and I can almost guarantee we'll lose people the second we go after the Winchesters. This may be these guys' last chance at happiness so forgive me if I'm not taking it from them by lettin' all my feelings out and sobbin' the night away. So, I'm gonna drink." Her accent was surprisingly strong at that moment.

"Why'd you think the spell didn't work on me? I mean, why didn't I freeze, like the others?"

Nat shook her head. "I don't know."

"Yeah, well maybe I'm just special." Or maybe it was something she had done. Like rescuing Sam, like saving Nat from Abaddon, all those actions to try and redeem herself.

"And what's up with your powers? Thought you were only mildly psychic. Or was that a lie? I thought you were the only one with no secrets around here."

"I don't even know. I _was_ mildly psychic. Who knows? Maybe it's got something to do with whatever Abaddon did to me. She transferred that spell to me, I mean. Maybe it's all this dimension shifting. Or maybe it's got something to do with this." She retrieved the bone of Lucifer from her pocket and let it fall to the table.

"You still got that?"

"Are you kidding? This thing took down an army of demons. There is no way I'm letting it go in a million years. It's like it's helping me. It makes me stronger. I can sense the path that angel, Gadreel made when he took them."

"Gadreel, we're assuming it's him right, that creep inside Sam."

"Yeah. But it's not just we're assuming it's him. I can almost tell, I can feel it. My powers working up, I guess."

"I heard what Abaddon said to you too. That you'd lost two loved ones this week. Was there someone else in the battle?"

"No." And then she abruptly leaned forwards in a drunken move. Her full lips lingered there, fiercely and clumsily kissing her. As a reflex, Meg found herself kissing back. It felt familiar. And it felt right, capturing her soft lips gently, almost as right, as natural as when she had kissed Castiel. This was what was left of Lydia.

She untangled herself from Nat's arms; her warm palms had been clutching her cheek and immediately, the human girl apologized.

"I'm sorry. I'm drunk," Meg was beginning to now sense she wasn't _that_ drunk. And she had no response for her. Because she was understanding her more and more.

Nat was blushing, just a little, and she tried to hide it, letting the frizz that was her hair, fall down and cover all the skin of her face except for a little sliver down the middle. And then she scurried away before Meg could even offer some hard-to-think-of way to apologize back for them breaking the glass. She searched around. No one had seen or if they had, they were not paying much attention. But two kisses in one day was certainly something.

And then a glass smashed in some small corner of the room. A crowd was already gathering around and she quickly rose. Cas ran down the stairs. He was looking quite unremarkable in a fluffy blue dressing gown which was had been tightly knotted up. A good thing too, he didn't appear to be wearing anything underneath. Or maybe that was a bad thing. Light hairs shimmered on his tanned legs. His hair was sticking up all over the place in clumps and it was damp like he had been halfway through a shower.

And then all the hunters parted. It was that angel who had appeared at the bunker before, the one with the blue eyes  and fringe. There were others behind her, she recognized the young angel girl too who had intruded on Castiel and Meg's motel room and five others.

"Castiel, we received your prayer."

"Hannah."

"Metatron has been killing angels, others have been going to work for him. He is telling them that you want to destroy us."

He got closer to Hannah until they were just feet away. "You don't believe him?"

"No. He has killed one of us. Hael saw it happen. He is returning all angels who join him to Heaven."

Cas shook his head. "You can't return to Heaven. The spell closed the gates."

"There is a portal. We have all heard of it. Castiel, we are ready to go in there and destroy. We will fight to get Heaven back again. We are ready."

_____

A knock came at Metatron's door.

"Just a second," the angel called. He just had time to remove his glasses from the tip of his nose when it burst open. Gadreel stood there, in his new vessel which was wearing a leather jacket and standing tall. Behind him, in the arms of three more angels, was his old vessel and his old vessel's brother. The Winchesters.

"I gave you a second," he said, slowly. "Metatron, I did what you asked. I have brought you the Winchesters." Dean writhed around next to him, swearing at the angel with his firm grip on him.

"Excellent. Take them to the cells."

As they were carried away with Dean's shouts vanishing into the distance, Gadreel made his way further into the room, his eyes meeting the carpeted floor beneath him.

"What do you want now?"

He faltered a little if only slightly and took a step away.

"I was wondering. If what we are doing is good, and righteous."

"I sense you are doubting me." Metatron had now finished with his typewriter and was removing his latest 'artwork' as he referred to what he wrote on them. Yet, not a word had ever been shown to anyone

"Metatron, today we slaughtered seven angels. Was that good?"

"They did not join us. They obviously don't want a better future for us."

"But you said we would be bringing all the angels back to Heaven. I wanted to make up for what I did to both our kind and humankind. I wanted forgiveness. But we are only causing more destruction. How can this be good? I am beginning to think that the two Winchester brothers were right."

"Oh, so that's what this is about? You want to follow some humans instead of following a God? Alright." He took off his robe, revealing the sweater he wore beneath and pushed past Gadreel to the doorway.

"Remiel, Ezra!" His voice echoed throughout the corridor and no sooner had he spoke, two more angels appeared next to Gadreel, both dressed in similar sweaters to Metatron.

"Escort our friend to the prison cells."

_____

They arrived at a children's playground in Indiana. It was deserted, seeing as the sun was only just beginning to edge its way upwards in its ascent to the sky. The last person they had seen for miles had been a homeless man in a rain jacket and woolly hat, walking a dog, a little up the park from here. Despite their great numbers, he had not acknowledged a single one of them.

"Nat, are you sure he brought them here?" Cas asked her. He was leading, the psychic beside him.

"Sure as Heaven. "

"Sound a little quiet to you?" Meg asked from the back of their line.

Suddenly, Nat threw Cas to the ground, ducking herself. Meg sensed that this was some sort of prediction and already had her angel blade in hand but it was too late, the angel knocked her against the cheek. It was a woman, dressed exactly how you would expect a modern housewife too, though her facial expression was far from friendly. Meg kept her grip strong though and thrust the sword into her chest. There was the typical burning of that sapphire light and then the empty vessel landed in the grass.

A second angel charged and this time, Hannah had it, she spun and caught this one right through the neck. It was a child, about eight or nine but just as fierce as the first soldier. She was gone before she could even begin the attack.

"Two of Metatron's soldiers. There will be more inside. The psychic is right, Castiel," Hannah said and she began to wipe the blood on her blazer. "Heaven is here. I can hear it. It sounds so..." She sighed with longing for her home and it had only been a couple of months but it felt so much longer.

Nat walked over to the sandbox in the center. "Told you," she said as she pointed to a symbol someone had carelessly drawn in the middle. It was a sigil, an Enochian sigil.

"It looks like a portal," she then concluded.

"Can you open it?"

"Should be able to."

"Jody, you have to rescue Sam and Dean while I deal with Metatron. I need Nat to stay behind, make sure no more guards come and to open the portal for us again when we need to leave. Meg, you stay with her."

"Castiel, there is no way you're leaving me on guard again."

"Meg, I need you to stay here. I cannot let you get hurt again, I cannot let you die. Metatron is more strong then you can imagine."

"I thought demon trumped human. At the moment, I'm more powerful than you. So what's your plan, go dancing in there and what, use the power of love to destroy him. Is that your big idea? Since when do you need to protect me, huh?"

"Meg, you were tortured and killed."

"And hey, I'm still up and kicking." She folded her arms.

"Meg, if anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself. I must protect you."

"Mmm, romantic." She winked and then her tone grew sharper. "Still a no."

"Anna, Balthazar."

"Clarence, what are you doing?"

"I'm listing all of my brothers and sisters who suffered because of me. Rachel, Hester, Naomi, Raphael, Samandriel, Ion, Muriel, Adriel."

"I'm guessing they had it coming."

"Not all of them had it coming. Meg, it is a crime to kill another angel."

"Another?"

Cas looked offended. Hurt, even. He pulled his new hoodie around himself.

"Sorry, uncalled for. But why should you blame yourself?"

"It is my fault. I ruin everything. I don't want any more people to die because of me. And that is why I have to do this. I can't let you get hurt."

"Awkward," Nat whispered.

"I will go in and confront Metatron," he explained. "Hannah, you and the others must wait outside. I will regain my grace and use it to destroy him."

"And you're OK with becoming one of them again?" Meg asked in an angry voice.

He did not answer for a while and then spoke. "I will do what is necessary."

Hannah shook his shoulder.

"Castiel, it is time for us to go." The group of angels stepped through the portal, one at a time and vanished, along with Jody.

"Don't take it personally," Nat said. "They always do that, go in on suicide missions and leave us _weak-willed women_ behind. Because they're worried we'll get hurt."

"Yeah. Well it's his fault if he gets himself murdered by that dick, not mine."

"Meg, I'm sorry about what happened last_"

"Now's not the time," she snapped.

"I just thought since we're here alone..." Nat shuffled her feet around. Today, she had come dressed in rolled up jeans and a frilly Summer shirt. "She used to dress like this all the time." She said when she caught Meg looking. "This shirt belonged to her in fact. Left it at my house one night. Never got the chance to give it back. You want it?"

"I don't know." Meg compared it to her own leather jacket. It wasn't really her style. She had never imagined the body, Lydia, wearing this, yet somehow she could somehow, the image of her was now forming in her head. This body, the body that had shared kisses with Nat, that had felt that pleasure, that pleasure she thought she had felt sparking within her a few hours before.

"You were pretty embarrassed last night."

"I recovered."

"You're a good kisser. Kind of hot actually." There was another silence before Meg dared to say anything again. "Death hasn't stopped him before. He'll probably just be brought straight back. But even if he does get that dumb grace of his, he still won't be a match for this Metatron. I heard whispers, mainly from what that angel tribe of his were saying. Apparently he's calling himself a God and Castiel may have his hot dark side but he's gonna be no match." She took a moment to breathe. She wanted to help out in some way. "I have an idea."

"What?"

"No normal angel can beat him. So, we have to create a new type of angel. Lucifer's bone gains pwer when there are shifts between the worlds. And what would be a bigger shift between worlds than an angel, a demon and a human standing in the same room? Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Can you open the portal up, one last time? I need to go in there."

"I need to save some of my energy for getting you out again."

 _Don't worry, you won't have to waste any on me,_ she thought.

"What?"

"What?"

"You just said something."

"I didn't."

Nat put a hand to her forehead. "Right. I think I just read your mind." She neared the symbol glowing traced into the sandpit, and pushed her palm against it, focusing all her power on it. The sigil shone even brighter in a Heavenly blue, and the gateway once again opened.

"Go, save your unicorn," said Nat.

Meg twisted around and gave her a hard stare which the girl just gave a humble smile to. "You were thinking it."

Meg looked away again, into the brightness below her which stung at her eyelids. What lay beyond, she had no idea. But if she could make it through...

"See you on the other side," she muttered. There was no point in just thinking it because Nat would know. She took a deep breath of wasted air and jumped.

_____

"You got any bright ideas of how to get us out of here, Dean?" Sam rested his head against the cold stone wall. Even just trying to think made him dizzy. Trying to come up with a plan to get them out of this prison made it feel like a chainsaw was being sliced through his brain. Was this part of the torture or simply an effect of the room? Were they actually going to torture them like had been done to Cas?

His brother was in the cell beside him, since they were locked away, he had not spoken a word but Sam could just make out his breathing. He imagined him on the opposite side of the wall, head in hands as he tried not to cry out in defeated pain.

And then he heard the door to another cell slam shut on the other side of his own. There was yelling, pleading.

"Please, brothers, I beg you, do not leave me here. You cannot trust Metatron!"

Sam knew that voice. He had known it was the angel as he appeared out of thin air, him and three assistants dragging them off to some portal to Heaven. Dean had recognized him too. Apparently, this had been what he looked like before he had been inside Sam. Most of the time he had been around him, he had been hiding away in the back of Sam's head, anonymously. But this was the form he had taken as Sam fought him off and cast him out of his body; the angel Gadreel.

After the invasion of the bunker, Sam had taken a little time to do some of his own research. There were sites, some with lists of all the theological angels from every religion though a few him and his brother had come across were not listed. But still, Gadreel was on there. Some myths were different. At the top of the page, it said that he was the angel responsible for teaching man warfare. Other stories suggested he was involved with Azazel somehow. But finally, he came across the original story: Gadreel had been in charge of protecting the garden of Eden. But he let the serpent in.

"Sam, is that you?"

Sam was unsure whether to reply to him but he obliged. There was nothing else to do in here.

"I am sorry for all I put you and your brother through. You have to know that he was driven mad by the desire of keeping you safe. You cannot blame him."

"I know about you, Gadreel. I know about your story and I know what you did.  Was that why you pretended to be Ezekiel for Dean?"

"I had heard what a good soldier he was. I hoped that one day I could live up to that name. And now I shall never. I am infamous, all angels hate me. I ruined my father's one perfect creation and now,  almost destroyed Heaven. I killed a friend so I could work for Metatron, a good friend."

Sam listened against the wall now. The brick was surprisingly thin, maybe not even brick, just a part of the illusion. Still, he could tell every one of the angel's actions as he stood and paced the room. But then he just stopped, just like that.

"Being inside you, Sam, it taught me much about you humans. Maybe what I did was wrong. But not all humans were harmed by it, not in a bad way. You and your brother are good men. And maybe now is my chance to redeem myself." There was the noise of stone clattering against stone.

"Gadreel, what are you doing?"

There were groans, groans of hurt.

"Dean!" Sam rushed to the other end of the chamber, calling to his brother.

"What's happening, Sammy?"

And then Gadreel spoke out again. "Move to the other side of your cell, both of you.  When they say my name, perhaps I won't just be the one who let the serpent in. Perhaps I will be known as one of the many who_"

"Gadreel!" Sam shouted again.

"_gave Heaven a second chance." There was a great flash of light and Sam shielded his eyes as the wall before him was blasted to bits. Angels were running down the hall, screaming, trying to escape the blast. When all was safe, Sam looked again to find the now used vessel lying there. His chest was bare and showing odd Enochian symbols. A sharpened stone had been plunged into one of them, tearing apart the skin surrounding it.

"He turned himself into an_"

"Angel bomb," said Dean, finishing his sentence. He now waited at his brother's side as the walls of his own cell had been broken down. "Sam, we have to go."

"We can't just leave him."

"He's gone now Sam. But we have to get out of here." He dragged him away down the corridor. A few angels collided with him but made no attempt to stop them. And then a woman appeared. Sam just got a flash of her eyes before he knew who she was.

"Jody, what are you doing here?"

"Getting you boys the Hell out! Come on."

_____

"Castiel. How nice of you to drop in." Metatron did not bother to avert his eyes from his typewriter. He was dressed quite magnificently, instead of in his usual cardigans, he had a fine silk robe and a pair of half moon glasses. His beard had been trimmed and so had his curly, gray hair. His office was filled with bookshelves and just stacks of books, all that he had probably read before. The walls were painted florally and you could almost believe that he was some rich writer, working on his latest novel.

 "Just enjoying some fine literature. Something of my own invention. A gift for the human race, we'll call it."

"I'm here for a reason, Metatron."

"Yes I know, get your grace back, unite all the angels, let them all back into Heaven. How about we sit down and have a nice talk instead. Take a seat." He thrust out his hand and Cas was thrown back into the chair he had gestured to.

"I will stop you, Metatron! From what you did to all those angels."

"Really? You and what army?"

"This army," Cas said. He could not see behind him but he could hear footsteps as Hannah, Hael and the others entered the room.

Metatron laughed. "Now I have to say, you have guts, coming in here. Not so strong without the Winchesters now are you?"

Cas was angry. So Metatron _had_ taken them.

"It's adorable. Honestly, I'm impressed." He began to clap. "You can pull this together. There are eight of you, that's great. I was expecting fewer. But my army, it's bigger than you could imagine. I have hundreds. And from what I've heard, Bartholomew and Malachi aren't very pleased with you either. You don't read very much, do you? The hero, he or she always has followers, enough people who believe their cause. Would it kill you to watch a movie, read a book?"

"That's what I keep telling him." It was one more voice, muffled from not actually being in the room so that they had to shout. And there was expression, probably a hint of humor in that one sentence. Metatron knew at once that this was not an angel speaking.

"But he just doesn't listen." A girl with light brown hair in curls and wearing a blue leather jacket stepped into the doorway and offered him a quick smile.

Metatron looked shocked for a few moments. And Cas was equally as shocked. He had told Meg to stay behind.

 And then Metatron recovered and laughed. "Seriously, Castiel? A demon? And I thought that you couldn't sink any lower. But then, villains of stories are always desperate. You forget, I am no longer an ordinary angel. Who would have thought it. The secretary. I was nothing special. And now, I am a God."

"I can't believe you, a human, thought you could just come in here, waving your angel blade around, and destroy one of the most powerful angels in existence. Looks like you need me here after all, Clarence," Meg muttered at him.

Suddenly, Cas got up. Metatron held out his hand again, trying to force him back into the chair but it was not working.

"There's one thing I've learned in all the years I've been on Earth, Metatron. Never pretend to be something you're not." Images, flashed through his mind then, dead bodies with wings scoured into the ground for eternity, dead bodies stretching out for as far as the eye could see, all those wonderful lives ended in seconds. Dean had blamed it on the leviathans, he said it wasn't Cas' fault and that whatever had been inhabiting his vessel had poisoned him. But he remembered, he had been fully conscious at the time. And it hadn't been all him because he would never do something like that, even in the old days when he thought he was obedient but really, he was born as a rebel, trying to fit in. He had said to Uriel at the time before the apocalypse that he was willing to wipe out a whole town of innocent people, just to stop one seal breaking, to stop them getting closer to breaking free which the angels wanted, anyway. But would he have actually done it. Still, Anna's words, or at least dream Anna's words, bounced around in his memory.

_"Not everything is your fault. You can't take the fall for everything."_

He closed his eyes as he fought against Metatron's  power.   _There will always be free will_. Metatron had fear in his eyes, it was just visible though he tried to disguise it with more laughing. It was failing though. As Cas  fell level with Meg, she gripped his hand. She nodded towards Hannah and as he levelled with her, he closed his hand over hers. Soon, all of them, all nine of them, were standing in a line, forming a chain. And then, they felt something that they had never felt before.

"Earth, Heaven and Hell," boomed Meg. "Three realms, united, fighting as one."

"I'm actually surprised. You have a nice use of metaphors, I'll give you that. But it still won't be enough."

"No," Meg said. "But this will." She broke the chain just long enough to reach into her jacket pocket and present a small object. Metatron only caught a glimpse of it before he was blasted back to the other end of the room, knocking over a chair.

Cas checked what she had in her hands. It was the bone, Lucifer's wing bone. But that was impossible. It was out of charge after they had used it to control the demons. And they didn't even have Nat here to extract what little juice it had left. There had been no great shifts between dimensions. But then there had been: A human, an angel and a demon holding hands.

"What is that?" Metatron gasped. His once fancy robe had been scorched and torn and his glasses were smashed, leaving only the frames which hung lopsidedly on his nose.

"It doesn't matter. 'Cause any second now, we're going to blow you to bits. Come on, give the man back his grace, make it a fair fight." She flashed him a wicked glint of her black eyes.

"Fine, you got me. I'd hardly want this to be unfair on you and your girlfriend, Castiel. I'll return your grace." And he began to rummage in his draws.

"I knew he was a coward. And he's really King of Heaven now. He's no taller than me."

"Meg, you shouldn't have come. With my grace back, I still will not be able to defeat him. He has the power of  God. Even my angel blade will not do any damage. Not even the bone of Lucifer will do that. It could not even hurt Abaddon, only the demons under its spell."

"So what was the point of coming in here in the first place?"

"It was uh, to save Sam and Dean. And to receive my punishment."

"Just take note," Metatron said, still facing away from them. "I can hear every word you say." He held up the glass bottle of grace between two fingers. "As promised, your grace." And he handed it over. "So what are you going to do now. You were right, I do have the power of a God. And even your little army won't be able to stop me."

"Oh don't worry," Meg replied. "That grace isn't for him." She snatched it from Cas' palm. "Run!" she yelled. And then she wrenched off the lid, letting the blue light soar down her throat. She could feel it tearing at the sides, trying to escape, trying to return to its true owner but then it became a part of her.

It was fire, gliding  down her skeleton, extending to her arms, to every inch of her body, down to the ends of her fingertips, entwining with her true form, creating something new. And she felt bigger, stronger.

It was spreading down to her core, to her core that was Lydia and Meg and then finally, Arya. And for a minute, in her mind's eye, she saw her sister, she saw Helena. And she was smiling. She screamed as Castiel's grace swallowed up her heart. Metatron was extinguished beneath her. And her life would have a purpose before it was over.

_I may have been born into this new world a Sinner. But I will die a Saint._

_____

He remembered escaping from the light. He remembered coughing ; coughing strongly to remove the flying soredust from his throat. The light burned his eyes. The light that had been Meg.

He looked from side to side. Sam was rushing down the corridor, supporting Dean as he limped too. They were stumbling for the ground beneath them was shaking. Jody, watching them carefully, shouting, words he could not quite perceive. His ears, throbbed, they were sore. Hannah was at his side and he counted. One, two, three, seven. Seven angels. But where was Meg?

"Where's Meg?" he demanded at Dean as Hannah grabbed him by his arm and dragged him in the direction of the portal.

"I'm sorry, Cas. She's gone."


	13. Epilogue

On the first day, they waited. That was all they could do then, just wait, wait and see what the future held, what it had in store for them.

The angels were returning to Heaven, the group led by Hannah. The gates were permanently closed and now, the only entrance would be through the portal. That would have to do, for both the angels and the reapers as they transported the good souls to their kingdom. They were going to see what they could recover from the ruins of Metatron's office. And maybe they would find the bone of Lucifer, left behind, and maybe an angel blade, maybe even the typewriter. But Meg wouldn't be there.

He had hoped that what Abaddon had said was true, about the demons she brought back being invincible, unable to die, and it probably was true. But that grace, grace was meant to fend off anything demonic, including her. Streaming through her body like that, it would completely have destroyed her, the demon her.

Nat was returning to Texas, if only to move out of her and her dad's original house. She was going to continue hunting of course, why would she stop? But now, she was getting older. And her dad wasn't there for her. She was going to get a new place to stay, somewhere in Lebanon, so she could be near them. And she was going to try to work at a doctor's surgery although she had joked she could work at a fairground as their resident psychic. Now her powers were stronger, she could make a big profit from it, she said.

Kevin and Linda planned to move back to Michigan but that didn't stop Kevin being a prophet.

"You can go back to school," Dean had said.

"I can, but I'm not going to. I'm a prophet now, Dean. This is my life."

"Yeah well you keep trying, buddy. Maybe you'll be president someday. And if you aren't, then our country doesn't know what it's missing out on."

"Thanks Dean."

He was also desperate to find out what was had been in Metatron's office during the explosion, if he had still had the angel tablet. Excavations of what were now ruins were taking place. Kevin also wanted anything he may have written on his typewriter. He thought they might be useful and could be a key to translating the tablets.

And yet, Cas just sat waiting and waiting and waiting, waiting for Meg to return to him. He wanted Meg back. He wanted to see her one more time. And he wasn't going to. That was what everyone kept telling him. Yet, he just kept waiting.

_____

On the third day, Hannah came to them. She was silent at first, just looked at Cas in the eyes with what he thought must have been deep sympathy. Then she produced something from behind her back. It was a glass vial. The contents were blue and shining but murky like lake water. And that was when he realized what it was. It was his grace.

"It's damaged," she said. "It was entwined with that demon-sorry, Meg's essence. You won't be as powerful but you will still be an angel."

Cas turned his head and saw Dean and Sam standing right behind him, giving him reassuring looks and nodding. As she stepped forwards, he plucked the bottle of grace from her hand.

"I have no use for this anymore." He turned to leave.

"Castiel, wait," she called to him. "Heaven needs a leader. And the other angels are asking for you."

He stood there with his back up straight and looked at her through sorrowful eyes. "I am no leader, Hannah. I never have been and I never will be. I don't want to be their leader."

"But if we do not have a leader, it could be disastrous. Heaven could fall to ruin."

"That is why I want you to take over."

"Me? I cannot take over, Castiel. I am just a soldier. I cannot give orders."

"You should not have to give orders. Give the angels free will."

She looked puzzled.

" You're a good soldier, Hannah," he told her. "You will make an even better leader. Better than I could ever be. Now that Metatron is gone, everyone will turn to you, other than those working for Malachi and Bartholomew but soon they will too. You are going to be just the ruler they need."

_____

On the fourth day, they returned to where the spell had first been cast, the crypt where Meg had woken up, Still littered with bodies, a damp smell in the air.

These were the bodies that had been unused and they all had their sympathies for those poor souls, with their skins scrawled with those strange markings, inventions of Lucifer.

And then Cas went to the back wall. He stepped over the bodies. He did not dare look down, see their faces, identify they were people and feel more guilt than he already was, that second.

He put his hand to the wall. It chilled his hand, just like the air did to the sections of his skin not covered. But that didn't bother him. The markings were invisible. Maybe that had been all part of the trick, so that no knowledgeable hunters, after receiving their place of rising from a demon, would figure out the spell. But his fingernails traced the grooves, forever marked there.

"It's here."

Nat's footsteps echoed on the floor as she came to stand beside him and he backed away, letting her do what she could. She splayed out her hand and cracks began to appear, the floor below them shook and then there was a mass of darkness, swirling before them. A black liquid, like ink, oozed out of the hole, forming a pile at her feet. She spoke the words, she spoke the incantation. The language sounded so foreign, so odd on her tongue. The gateway began to seal itself, like a video being rewound, the ink trickled back up the wall. The screams that they had only just been able to perceive became fainter and fainter.

"Wait," he said, suddenly.

Nat stopped in the middle of her sentence but continued staring at the wall. "What?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"There is something I have to do." He removed the grace from within his jeans. The whole time, he had kept that small bottle there. Sometimes he had been afraid it would break. But he kept it. To cling on to old memories, memories of her. Because as much as some of the contents were a part of him, they were a part of her too. They contained some essence of her, whatever it was that made demons tick. It was within the glass, swirling around with an angel's grace, two opposites attracting.

And then he tossed it away. It dropped, fell through that one tiny hole in the wall, landing in a river of lost souls. Except there was no splash.

And then the gateway was sealed forever.

They made their way out to the impala.

"Shotgun," Nat called, resting her back against the passenger side door as she waited for Dean to arrive.

"I don't understand. Where is there a shotgun?" And then Cas caught her, standing behind a tree with copper colored blowing in the shape of a halo around her ovular face.

"I need a moment." He left the group, making his way to the figure. She had her back to him now.

"How is this possible?" he asked her.

"You tell me. You're the one who's died so many times. It's remarkable compared to me. Cas."

"Anna. I thought you were-is this another dream?"

"No Cas. This time it's real."

"But how_"

She turned her full body around as she interrupted him. "Some secrets are best kept secret."

"And the dreams, were they..."

"Real? It was the only way I could talk to you. I was trapped and growing weaker. But you, you shifted dimensions countless times. You set me free."

"I killed countless angels. I don't deserve your respect."

"You defeated Metatron. You did it. Two brothers, two young psychics, a lost mother,  a fallen angel and a demon who learned to love. You broke the rules. And I get it."

"I'm sorry, for anything I did to you. I should never have sent you back, the pain you went through."

"You didn't know any better. They got into your head. They got into all our heads. You were a good angel. And you'll be a good human now. And I get the feeling that Heaven's going to change."

"Now you are back, you can rule Heaven. You and Hannah would make_"

"Cas, I don't want to be a leader, just like you. I want to live again. Like before. I want to live among the humans. I want to love like you do. I know about Meg."

He looked down at his feet. "Then you know she is gone."

Anna nodded. "I saw what she did for you. Do you know why she called you Clarence?"

"Yes it was from a popular human film, I never got the chance to watch it_"

"Then you wouldn't know. Clarence was an angel who taught someone that their life was worth living. Not only did you teach yourself that but you taught her that too. Do you know what her worst fear was?"

"Dying?"

"No. It was to die without a cause, without a purpose. You became her cause, the side of good became her cause but mainly, she was her own cause. And you taught her that. That her job was not to be the slave of others. She loved you and you loved her. And that is what I wish for and maybe I once had."

"Will I get to see you again?" he asked her.

She was silent for at least ten seconds before addressing his question.

"Maybe. But you can't tell anyone about this. I want to hide, I need to stay hidden. Only you and a few other know I am here. I went to find a few familiar faces for old times' sake. You being one of them." And then she disappeared as she always had, making her usual dramatic exit. It had been her favorite move in games, centuries ago, before either of them fell. Things were so different from how they had been then. But nothing could stay the same. He was alone again among the great oak trees. And then he made his way back towards Sam, Dean and Nat.

_____

On the seventh day, Sam came to see Cas. He had been distant for the past few days, ever since what happened between Meg and Metatron. He was in mourning. Maybe for his lost grace. Because it truly was lost now. But he didn't want that. It was because of Meg that he was so sad.

"Hey Cas, I got you a present."

Cas was seated at the table in the main room. He was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"It makes me think of her. She was the one who taught me how-how to enjoy all the sensations of human food is."

"You miss her, don't you?"

"She's not dead, Sam."

"I know it must be hard_"

"She's not dead," he repeated. "I would know if she were. And the last time she was gone, I think I knew. That's why I was so surprised to see her. Because I had assumed she had died at the crypts."

"Were you sad then?"

"I was sad all the time then. Not just for her, for every one of them, everyone who had died because of me. She was one of them."

"No buddy, she wasn't_"

"She was doing it to save me." Both of them had noticed how they had not used Meg's name once in the conversation.

"Here," Sam said. He held out his arms. Something was bundled up in them. Castiel quickly took whatever it was. It was beige. Fabric. He unravelled it.

"It's not the original but as close as I could get. They sell these things everywhere. If you don't like it_"

"No Sam. I love it." His lips turned up at the corners as he slid his arms through the sleeves of his new trenchcoat. "Thank you."

"Thank you too, Cas."

Cas tilted his head. "Thank you? For what?"

"Thanks for all you've done for us." And then Sam drew Cas into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Cas stood stock still for a minute and though Sam could not see his face, he suspected he would have that usual puzzled expression of his.

"This is the point where you hug back, Cas."

"Oh, right." Slowly, Sam felt as Cas edged his hands further up his spine until both of them were embracing.

_____

On the twelfth day, a woman was found severely wounded, at the edge of a highway in Indiana. The report read she had possibly been set on fire if not for long. But there had been no reports of fires anywhere near that area. No photos had been released either, Kevin hacked into the FBI, just to check.

Kevin showed it to Sam, after researching the story first of course. "What do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well it's near where the gateway to Heaven opened so maybe...maybe she did making it out after all.

"What do you think, Cas?" Sam asked the same question to the Castiel as he wore his newfound trenchcoat. It was later on the same day as Sam showed him the article.

"It's her," he said and nothing could describe the pure sense of warmth Sam felt in seeing his relief.

_____

_She found herself in a big right room. The walls were painted white, the tiles on the floor were white, like a wedding that had gone drastically wrong. And even the woman standing in front of her was wearing white. A white gown, like what a bride might have worn; if this were the nineteenth century._

_She found her voice smooth and soothing as she glided along the polished stone towards her._

_"You can come with me. If you want. You wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. You've done what you had to. Now could be your time. If you would like." This was a choice, a choice she would have to make._

_"I can take you home, if that is what you wish. You can be free from the torture, the shame, the pain, everything you wished you did not have to feel. You can see your sister, your mother, your real mother and not a demon pretending to love you. But it all depends on you." The woman in the dress stretch out a hand and for a minute, her form seemed blurry, like she were trying to see  her through a bus window on a rainy day, or through smudged glasses. She found herself wondering if there really was a window between them, such thin glass that she could not see it._

_"All you have to do is take my hand." She caught a glimpse of the face beneath the veil. Dark hair, almost black. Pursed lips, so patient. And eyes, wide with wonder yet drowned in despair. One brown, one blue. It took her a minute to recognize that face, it had been two hundred years since she last saw it staring back at her in a mirror. A reaper, taking her form._

_But she was no longer that girl. "Thanks, but I think I'll stick with the pain for now."_

"So how long did you say she's been like this for, doctor?"

"Two days. Hasn't been identified yet but she was in a pretty awful state when she first got here. She's stable now but then, we thought she was going to die. You should have seen her burns. You think they're bad now, you should have seen them before. She's doing a pretty good job of healing herself."

"We need you to leave us with her." She could now begin to realize, these were voices, this was real. The voice that had last spoken was deeper than the previous two. The big white room was gone. The small white room remained. It was there, just through her stinging eyelids.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. We just need a minute to make sure it's her. Her mother won't be happy if we bring home the wrong girl."

"Of course, agent."

She murmured. She murmured again. Words were trying to escape her mouth, words that struggled to form as someone leaned over her. But her lips, they were sore, they were dry. From the burning. The burning. She remembered it, she could feel the heat, even now it was gone, aching inside her.

"Meg? Sam, she's talking." It was the deeper voice that addressed these words, not to her. To a man standing in the corner. A man with long hair, too long to be an agent though he wore a suit: Sam. And then, bending over her, another man. His hair was short, sticking up in the air, far more than it used to. It was dark, a shade of brown that was nearing black. And he was wearing a beige coat.

"Meg, can you hear me?"

"I went to Heaven, Clarence."

_____

It was the fourteenth day. Two weeks since they took down Metatron, two weeks since the angels were free to return to Heaven. Castiel's  grace was gone, so was the bone belonging to Lucifer and so was she.

Meg wasn't gone, not really. She was still there. Castiel had remarked, she still had her thorns, as she tossed a snarky comment at Sam, once the doctors had said she was free to leave the hospital. In a desperation, she told them she remembered everything. Her name was Lydia, the first name that came to her mind. She had been in the woods, camping, alone, she had said. She had started a fire, her hair had caught fire, the pain must have knocked her out and maybe it had just burned out alone. They had said there was internal bleeding too. She had not been able to explain that. She had joked about how maybe she had swallowed one of the matches. The doctors hadn't been in a laughing mood.

She was still the same old Meg. That was how Dean had described it. But still, she wasn't.

The ends of her hair were burnt. But hair grew. Her face was scarred, mainly around the mouth. But the workers at the hospital said that would heal. And anyway, she knew spells, plus it seemed her healing was faster than that of most people.

But that was not the worst of it, for she was no longer a demon. The grace inside her, it must have been enough to purify her black soul, the same as had been done to Crowley, although in a far faster process. So basically, she had bought her ticket to Heaven.

She helped herself to a drink. A bottle of beer, one she could taste, one that could actually make her drunk. And then Nat came and flopped down into the chair beside her. She didn't have a beer. Her outfit style had changed. She was dressed in a smart, lilac dress today, the sleeves tight on her muscular but slender arms, and stretching all the way down to just below her elbow. She was a receptionist now, a local surgery it turned out, had been hiring. She had not been able to find a new home for herself as of now. Sam and Dean had offered her a room.

Meg had asked to talk to her. They hadn't spoken since before the fight against Metatron, not a word since then. She had nodded to her as they passed in the halls but she got the feeling Nat was just too embarrassed to see her.

Nat now folded her hand over Meg's, meeting her eyes. They were brown now. And they would be brown forever. These were her eyes now, her real eyes.

Meg sighed and pushed Nat's thumb down her wrist. "I know you loved Lydia. But I'm not Lydia. I'm not even Meg. I didn't even know who I was for so long. But I'm me and no one else." She folded her hair back over her ear.

"Lydia used to do that," said Nat.

"Well I have to applaud your taste in women. All my meatsuits are pretty hot and I guess that's why I choose them. But you're an alright kid."

"I'm twenty eight."

"Fine, you're an alright twenty eight year old. I still beat you by a few millennia in Hell years. So how far'd you get with her?"

"We were at a party. It was a few weeks before the end of semester. We were at a frat party, both of us were drunk. And, I don't know what happened. But it was amazing. Neither of us had ever been with another woman but that didn't stop us. We didn't really make it exclusive. We weren't a couple but a few of our friends knew about it. It was nothing serious. Then I had to leave, I went back to hunting with dad. And that was the last time I saw her. Didn't stop me thinking about her, though."

"You ever try with someone else?"

"Yeah. It didn't work out."

"It's not I don't like you, Nat. I'm sure I would. But I don't know you. And I'm not the person you're looking for. I want to make sure you understand that."

"Yeah, totally." There was no enthusiasm in her words. "I just thought that maybe if there was anything of her left in you, maybe it would wake up."

"Did anyone ever tell you that the past is in the past? You'll find someone else. You're looking good for twenty eight so maybe someone from high school would_"

"Is there something between you and Cas?"

"Getting down to the serious questions." She gave a harsh laugh. "I'm not even sure."

"I don't know him very well but he seems like a cool guy. I'm not gonna go all jealous-ex. Not that us too were ever dating. And just because he was an angel and you're sort of a demon-I mean it could be like Romeo and Juliet, minus the suicide. And he cares about you. And you care about him."

"What makes you say that?"

"The kiss for one thing. I'm just goin' with what my brain tells me. I'm a love expert, y'know."

"I like you, Nat. We could be friends, if I were the friends type." She then gave her a quick peck on the cheek and she felt her skin grow warm beneath her own chapped lips. She drew away and turned around. "Stay safe, kid."

_____

Meg sat opposite him and watched as he fixed his new trenchcoat, inspecting every inch of the rough fabric for tears or stains. She had always known he loved the thing but up until now, she had never seen him care for the state it was in. He had worn it stained with dirt, blood, all kinds of disgusting things that stick to your clothes and are enough to get them sent straight to the laundry basket.

And when he was done, when he was certain that all was in a perfect state, he concentrated on her. He really was human now. Even without most of her demon super senses, she could see it. Just like before. Only different. Before he had been sad, depressed, almost suicidal you could say but it was like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There were no longer those frown lines. And he had the crinkles beside his eyes only these weren't from age and fatigue but laughter. And he smiled at her.

And she smiled back. She didn't smile normally, not in a nice way. When she had made a joke or something was amusing, when she was finished with a torture, those were the times when she could smile. But he was happy to see her. And that was enough.

"So, human boy. Missing your wings yet?"

He cast his eyes downwards. "They made me feel stronger. But this is right. This feels right." He smiled again. His hand crossed towards hers and held it and it was warm. "But I never wanted to be an angel. And I never was one."

"I thought you said you just wanted to be an angel."

His back relaxed and he knotted his hands together. "Yes, I just wanted to be an angel. But not in that way. I wanted my brothers and sisters to accept me again. And now they have, I am an angel."

"So you wanted to be a metaphorical angel? I'm sorry but that's the cheesiest thing I ever heard."

"How are you finding it?"

She laughed. "Different to how I remembered. I'm not a full human you know." She tore her hand from his grip and flexed it, pointing towards the ceiling. The light hanging from their began to shake, some books fell from the shelves and the bedroom door swung open and then crashed shut again.

"Being mortal, it's kind of weird. But what is it they always say? 'Change is always for the better.' I can't possess people anymore. Guess I'm stuck looking like this forever. And I'll probably age some day, die someday, too. But I guess that's alright. You know, I saw inside you, for a moment. All that angel juice pumping around inside me before I exploded. Seems like you were on depressed angel. You know, I thought I was gonna die. And I was okay with that. 'Cause it meant I could have done something good. You know, repaying for my crimes. And when I was in that coma, I went to Heaven. Or some place in between Heaven and here."

"What did it look like?"

"White. A little too white for my liking. There was a reaper. She offered me a choice. Go with her or stay. And I stayed. I don't know why but something made me want to stay."

"Meg_"

"That's not my real name. It's Arya."The word tasted unfamiliar on her tongue. On Lydia's tongue. "You can call me that, if you want," she said, sourly.

"Arya." He tested it out. Something lit up in his eyes.

"What?"

"It's just..." He shook his head. "It's not of import." It was funny, him trying to use human slang, but she kept in her smiles.

"No, what?"

"It was a while ago. I had never been on earth for long. We tended not to walk among humans. But one day, I was summoned. They bound me inside the body of this girl and I thought they were going to kill me and I did not even know why. And then this girl came and set me free. I remember she had uh, beautiful eyes. One was blue and the other was brown. And she told me her name was Arya."

Meg put her arms backwards. She felt a smile forming on her lips. "Clarence. That whole thing with the ring of fire. I don't think that was the first time we met. Did you mean what you said to me? That you love me? Because if you didn't, you couldn't have picked a worse time to lie to me."

"No. I love you, Meg. It took me a while to realize that. Human emotions, they're so difficult, so hard to figure out if you are happy or excited, sad or angry, feeling attraction or love. And it was love. So what do you think?" He tried not to meet her eye, looking shyly away.

"You mean, should we be a thing?"

"We are things."

She rolled her eyes. "I mean a couple. I'm not one for long term but no harm in trying new things."

She kissed him. She felt him smiling beneath her lips, truly smiling. His mouth parted over hers and their lips interlocked. It was perfect. More perfect than ever before. They had nothing to worry about, it was a purely relaxed kiss. And it wouldn't be the last time.

_____

Suddenly, Dean burst out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes, and Sam looked up from his laptop.

"You alright, Dean?" he asked in an amused tone at Dean's facial expression which was a mix between disgust and complete and utter shock.

"No. I am scarred for life," came the deep reply. "Meg and Cas were in _my_ bedroom."

"Well what were they doing?" asked the younger brother though he was sure he did not want to know.

"Unspeakable things, Sammy. Unspeakable things."

"Oh yeah, what kind of unspeakable things?"

"You don't want to know the details."

"Alright." Dean was right. He probably didn't. "Well I think I found us a case. So get this: a John Doe has been taken unconscious to hospital in Wisconsin. A farmer reported some of his cows were being stolen and he caught him last night. He shot at him but the guy got away. He ran into the road and got hit by a car while trying to escape."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well the description fits. Dean, I think it might be Garth."

"Wait, we're talking about the Garth who left Kevin alone to be captured by Crowley?"

"I don't know. Maybe he has some answers about what happened."

"Right well off to Wisconsin then, I guess."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Things are going to go back to the way they were before, aren't they?"

Dean came to take a seat beside him as Sam shut down his laptop and began to pack it away into his bag.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, before dad died. Back when we were hunting, looking for him, trying to kill the Yellow Eyed Demon. We're going to be solving cases and with Abaddon in the wind, it will be just like how it was: us chasing after one demon."

"Yeah, plus the two lovebirds in the backseat. I'm telling you, if they get up to anything in Baby, they'll have me to answer to."

Sam laughed. "Yeah. That will be funny to watch. So, you want to get going?"

"Sure, bitch."

"Jerk."

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment


End file.
